And Every Winter Change To Spring
by The Moonlily
Summary: Having befriended Éowyn in the aftermath of war, Lothíriel travels north to help her prepare for a new life in Gondor. But in Rohan, she discovers more than she expected: a land still fighting to survive and a young king struggling to find his own peace.
1. Prologue

**Title:** And Every Winter Change To Spring

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairings:** Éomer/Lothíriel

 **Genre:** Romance/Drama

 **Summary:** Having befriended Éowyn in the aftermath of war, Lothíriel travels north to help her prepare for a new life in Gondor. But in Rohan, she finds more than she expected: a land still fighting to survive and a young king struggling to find his own peace.

 **Disclaimer:** The Lord of The Rings is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate. This is a work of fanfiction, written for the enjoyment of myself and others. No financial profit is made by writing this.

 **Author's Note:** Here is my brand new Éothiriel story! It took me a while to figure this one out, but I think I've got it now, and I've already got some more drafted. I guess this is more of a traditional kind of Éothiriel fic, if you get what I mean. At any rate, I hope you will enjoy, and let me know what you think!

The title of the story is from Alfred Tennyson's poem _In Memoriam._

* * *

 _Then suddenly... he woke again, and looked up, seeing leaves against the sky; and he heard beneath the leaves singing soft and slow beside him Lúthien Tinuviel. And it was spring again._

 _\- Of Beren and Lúthien_

* * *

 **Prologue**

 _August 3019, Dol Amroth_

 _My dear Éowyn!_

 _I was glad to receive your letter today when my father and my brothers returned from their visit to your country. I could hardly wait to start and compose an answer, and it is already late, as we spent many hours talking about Rohan, your uncle's funeral, and your betrothal to Faramir. It is so good to have my family_ _home again, Éowyn; it feels like we haven't been together like this in such a long time. While the war was going on, most if not all of them were away, and I was left alone and dreading the arrival of every messenger that rode through the gates._ _I know Father will be needed in Minas Tirith very soon, as the new king has need of him, but at least we are able to enjoy a few weeks of respite._

 _Yet it seems like such a short while has passed since you rode back to Rohan with your brother and your warriors. I have missed our talks and your company. You said you were not good at bringing comfort to anyone, but I did feel it on those dark days when we waited news from the Black Gate. The waiting was much easier to bear when I could count on sharing our fears and hopes with you. And when peace was won and we were given those golden hours of victory, it was such great fun showing you around in Minas Tirith and teaching you all the court dances of Gondor. You know, some might say that a deep friendship cannot grow in such a short while as we have known one another, but already you feel like a sister to me. I never had a sister, and though I do love my brothers with all my heart, it was not always easy being the only girl among them. You perhaps better than anyone know what it_ _feels like._

 _It is for these reasons I must say that your favour will be easily and happily delivered. In fact I feel it's no favour at all! I would be glad to spend the autumn and winter in Edoras with you, though I wonder how much teaching you truly require as far as the customs of Gondor are considered. My cousin Faramir loves you either way, Shieldmaiden or Healer. But you are also right to write that your position as his wife will be easier to manage when you know your way around. There will be much to be done in Ithilien, and there court etiquette won't help you, but the consort of the Lord Steward of Gondor won't be spending all her time rooting around in a kitchen orchard._

 _In case my long-winded waffling hasn't already made my answer clear, then let me try and be straightforward: I will come indeed! And I shall be happy to stay with you until the wedding, if you have need of me until then. Father has already given his blessing and I believe he's fairly delighted about the affair. He thinks highly of you and of your brother the King, and is eager to encourage all interaction between our realms and especially our families. He has promised to give me no less than twelve Swan Knights to escort me to Rohan, and this coming week we will all be very busy making everything ready. I hope to travel soon, as I am impatient to finally see your legendary homeland – and of course meet you again, my dear friend._

 _Éowyn, I admit this also feels like my small chance to join in_ _rebuilding of our world. There's not much I can do to help, yet perhaps by aiding you to prepare I can contribute. You warned me that the coming winter won't be easy in Rohan, but I'm not afraid. I know it won't be even half as bad what you already went through. I may seem like a pampered little maiden, but I don't think you ever believed that was the whole truth about me. If you did, you wouldn't have asked me to stay in Edoras until spring._

 _There's only one thing I wonder about, Éowyn. I have thought whether_ _it is all right by your brother that I come. He must have given his consent, as you wouldn't otherwise invite me, but I hope you didn't have to pressure him hard. I know it's probably silly thing to think of, but at times in his company I feel like he's not particularly fond of me. Not that he has ever said anything of the sort – he was polite on the two occasions we actually talked back in Minas Tirith! But your brother is such an intimidating man, and I often feel like a fool when I'm in his vicinity. Please, Éowyn, don't say anything to him! I do not wish to make him feel uncomfortable in my company. We are like to run into each other many times over the coming months and in the future as well, as you are about to join our family through your marriage to Faramir. It would be dreadful to make him feel as awkward as I already do._

 _Maybe my concerns are_ _just because of my youth and inexperience and uncertainty when faced with a legendary character like your brother, and I will get over it when I know him a little better. It worked with you, didn't it?_ _As such, I ask you again not to speak of this to him. He has more important worries in his kingdom now that the war is over and I'd rather not bother him with my foolish doubts._

 _Please, don't let this disconcert you, or think I do not look forward to staying with you for the coming winter. I am truly honoured to have your faith and good opinion, and I promise to do my best to help you get ready for the new life ahead of you. And after all, you are my friend. Soon you will also be family._

 _In a few days, perhaps a week from now, my escort shall depart for Rohan. We'll sail the river and land at Harlond, and then ride north. It is hard to believe I am soon to see the famed land of horselords for the first time. I have a good feeling about it, Éowyn – I think this is going to be the start of something good._

 _With warm regards,_

 _your friend_

 _Lothíriel of Dol Amroth_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

On the morning she was set to depart, it seemed t _o_ Lothíriel that her father was much more nervous about her journey than herself. His dear, noble face had a mildly concerned look from the moment she joined the family for breakfast and he kept asking if she was sure she had remembered to pack everything: her new sturdy riding boots, her warmest clothes for the chilly winter of Rohan, and a multitude of other objects smaller and bigger that one would need on a long ride north.

Eventually she just had to go round the table and wrap her arms around his shoulders.

"Father, I will be all right", Lothíriel said gently and kissed his temple. "I'll be among friends. And I'll be writing to you very often."

"Yes, yes", he said and patted her back clumsily. "I know everything will be fine, and it is a good thing for you to go. But I wouldn't be your father if I didn't make a fuss for a bit, do you think?"

She laughed and kissed his cheek once again.

Her brothers were much more relaxed as the family made their way for the great harbour of Dol Amroth. Elphir and Erchirion took turns in lecturing her about how to behave in foreign court, as though she didn't already know that, and Amrothos made an occasional complaint for not being allowed to go with her. But like Elphir was glad to remind him, all three sons of Imrahil were needed now that King Elessar was starting the task of rebuilding Gondor.

"And it's not like Lothíriel is going there for a vacation, brother. You'd just be in way, and I don't recall Éomer mentioning that he needs a court jester", Erchirion quipped, much to the amusement of everyone except Amrothos himself.

"Well, the man could use a laugh or two, so maybe I should volunteer", he shot back and made a face at his brother.

"Erchirion, Amrothos, do you really wish your sister's parting memory of you to be this nonsense? Try and behave", Elphir chided them, sounding so much like Father that Lothíriel had to muffle her laughter. She was going to miss them all dearly.

After many hugs and kisses at the port, they finally let her board the proud ship that would bear her as far as Harlond near Minas Tirith. She was promising to send her first letters from there, but then the captain had to come and hurry up the goodbyes. Father was looking more tearful than he had been upon taking his leave of her upon riding to the Black Gate, and so she gave him one extra kiss before she half ran after the vexed captain.

But though it was indeed the start of her first longer separation from her entire family, Lothíriel did not feel scared. Instead, she was excited and a little nervous to finally get to try her own wings in the world – and in the court of Gondor's most powerful ally, no less.

She was quick to temper the current line of thought. This was not to be some amusing tour or a chance to show off herself. She was going to help her friend in a land that had suffered badly under the horrors of war, and it would be prudent to remember this fact at all times. She wanted to make her father proud and that would require dignity, grace and modesty. And if that won her the good opinion of King Éomer... well, then she would be most lucky indeed.

The voyage upriver was calm and quiet, though she saw the Knights keenly watching the eastern bank as they strolled on the deck. Erchirion had told her it was still unsafe in Ithilien and probably would be for a few years more, until forces of Gondor were rebuilt and strong enough to guard the land against Mountains of Shadow and the southern road. Standing at the stern of the ship, she wondered what direction Rohan gazed at in concern. Éowyn had said the war had not yet won the complete safety of her homeland...

Not that Lothíriel worried for herself. Between the Swan Knights Father had provided and the elite Riders of King Éomer, she knew she would be quite safe. Most of them would return home once they had got her to Edoras, as she would hardly need twelve fully armed Amrothian Knights in the Golden Hall of Rohan's King. And by the time she returned, it would be with Prince Imrahil's own escort. But as the ship sailed closer to Mins Tirith, Lothíriel did not much ponder these matters. Instead she wondered whether King Elessar would be willing to teach her in the matters that concerned Rohirrim and particularly the ruling House. The better she understood where Éowyn came from, the more she could help her.

They reached Minas Tirith, and there King Elessar and Queen Arwen hosted her for a few days. The returned king was indeed happy to tell her about the land in the north, like she had hoped. He had spent time there in the past and knew Rohan, or the Mark as he called it, as well as he knew the people named Rohirrim. Proving he too had interest in making Éowyn's way a little smoother, the king cleared his schedule for the entire afternoon so that they could converse in peace. And so they walked in the gardens of the Citadel and he talked to her about fierce Dunlending tribes, famously hostile against the horselords, and wild things that roamed in the wild lands to the north. There was a frown on his face when he mentioned his concern: it was believed that many orcs had taken refuge in the Misty Mountains, near to the borders of Rohan. They would yet be a thorn in the side of King Éomer.

After these very informative conversations Lothíriel felt more confident to begin the journey to Edoras, even knowing more about dangers in the north. Now she understood Éowyn's home a bit better, or so she hoped; it was a beautiful land of songs and green fields and brave horsemen, but also one that had not known peace for a long time. That was something, she imagined, to go deeply into one's heart and mind. No wonder Éowyn had been so full of despair when she had first wakened in the House of Healing...

But those things were now behind, and there was no more solid proof of that than the several thick letters Faramir asked her to deliver to Éowyn. Her cousin looked unusually flustered when he passed them to her, but Lothíriel hid her smile, gave him a tight hug and promised to bring them to his betrothed.

The company escorting her, however, did not appear to ponder much the state of Rohan or potential danger. They were brave and able men, seasoned in battles and more than qualified for this very simple task of transporting Imrahil's daughter. As far as she listened to them talk, particularly those tasked to stay with her, it seemed their chief interest was in getting to train with Rohirrim and perhaps meet some laughing maidens of the north. Lothíriel said nothing, but shook her head and hoped that their captain would make sure they'd keep up the good name of Dol Amroth while they remained in Rohan.

Once crossing the Mering Stream they were officially on foreign soil. Wide green plains and rolling hills spread as far as eye could see, but Lothíriel only had a brief moment to admire this sight. For when the last of the company had crossed the river, they could see many Riders approaching. Wearing green cloaks and bright mails, their blond hair in braids, they were quite the sight as they sped to meet the escort. Lothíriel had seen many Rohirrim up close back in Minas Tirith, but they never made such an impression as when they were horseback. During the many festivities after the war, Amrothos had taken her to see some of the elite warriors performing riding tricks with their horses. Such level of understanding and co-operation between man and beast was something she had not seen even back in Dol Amroth.

But now a man who seemed like the leader of these Riders began to approach her escort. Once he was at speaking distance, he lifted his hand and greeted them in the Common Tongue.

"Well met, travellers. Do I have the honour of speaking to the Lady Lothíriel, daughter of Prince Imrahil?" he asked and bowed his head. Thick brown mane he had, streaming down from under his polished helmet, which he now took off as if to signal his friendly intentions. He was bearded, just as the rest of his company. Used to the cleanly shaven lords of Gondor, Lothíriel couldn't say whether the man was handsome. But his eyes were bright blue and his smile was ready as he regarded the Amrothian travellers.

"I am indeed. Did Lady Éowyn send you?" she asked, smiling at the tall, long-haired man.

"No, my lady. It was Éomer King himself. He bids you welcome in the Riddermark and hopes that you will allow us to escort you safely to Edoras", he replied to her surprise.

Éomer King himself! Lothíriel had expected her formal dealings to be with Éowyn, but on the other hand, perhaps this was simply the King of Rohan nodding his head at her father the Prince. It was simply politics, not a reason to feel overly important.

"Thank you, captain...?" she said, letting the question hang in the air until the leader of the Riders supplied her with an answer.

"Folca is my name, my lady. I serve under the command of Marshal Elfhelm", he answered and bowed his head again. "We have been waiting for your arrival."

"In that case, shall we get going? It is a long road to your capital, and one travels easier with a party of trained Riders of Rohan. I am pleased to have your company for the rest of the way", said Lothíriel and she tried to meet the eyes of each man following Captain Folca. Father had said Rohirrim were a proud people, and she wanted to show them every respect – especially now that they were on the soil of Rohan. Lothíriel didn't know what these men expected her to be, but she was going to show them from the start that they were not dealing with some haughty Gondorian noblewoman.

And she would give her father every reason to be proud of her.

* * *

For many days they journeyed on the Great West Road, riding through the green land of the horselords. They passed villages and even a small town on their way. In these settlements, there was much to see, be it the homes of Rohirrim or the people themselves. Though this was not the first she met Gondor's northern allies, most of them had been warriors. But here in their own land she finally got to see their families – tall blonde women, their flaxen-haired children, and the old with lined faces and bright eyes. Their dress and homesteads were both simple and alive with detail at the same time. Well-made wool was dyed with the colours of earth and intricately embroidered. Their jewellery was usually brass and bronze, with occasional flash of gold. All they wore echoed the complicated knotworks carved in wood. They looked like a strong, hearty people, but there were many faces among them where hardship and grief were furrowed.

On the fields, people were hard at work, but many halted to watch the large party ride by. When they stopped by a village to water the horses or to purchase some goods, local folk gathered around the Swan Knights to get a closer look at southern warriors, their blue cloaks and polished and engraved armour. To her amusement, Lothíriel also saw a few young maidens bat their eyelashes at the tall, dark-haired men of Dol Amroth. This did not seem to amuse the local lads or fathers of said maidens; but their gruff demeanour usually softened as soon as the escort continued their journey.

She got her share of attention. Noble lady of Gondor was a rarity in these small villages, even if some had taken part in King Théoden's funeral. Small parties of women would gather around her and shoot questions in a bold, unashamed way, almost like she was their long-lost cousin. Whoever knew most Westron was appointed the spokesperson, and Lothíriel would find it quite impossible to leave. But eventually one of Folca's men, or the captain himself, came to shoo the crowd away and tell her it was time to move on.

Between villages miles and leagues were long. As the two companies grew friendlier, passing time also became easier: songs were sung, stories told, and riddles were debated. Folca explained that Rohirrim often passed the long rides by singing; some of their longest songs could take hours to complete. But even while they were jesting and story-telling, the Riders remained alert. One scout rode ahead and one was behind them at all times. Lothíriel did not ask whether this was necessary: Folca did not need her counsel in the matter of escorting the daughter of King Éomer's personal friend.

At night they camped near the Road. The Amrothians had tents to shelter them, one for each pair of Knights and one for Lothíriel herself, but Folca's Riders were seemingly content with the sky above their heads. On the first night, she discreetly asked the captain if his men wished to share the tents. But Folca let out a low, warm laugh and looked at her with a friendly twinkle in his eyes.

"It is all right, my lady. My lads are used to sleeping outside. We prefer to stay near our horses and be able see them at all times. Don't you worry about us", he said to her gently and bowed his head.

Lothíriel felt a little embarrassed to have made assumptions, but Folca was just as discreet and made no joke about the lady's ignorance.

While the Swan Knights were busy setting up the tents, Rohirrim were also fast at work. Horses were tended to, camp fires started, and supper prepared. They were quick and efficient, proving that these men were well used to being out in the wild; Folca was quick to explain that many Rohirrim lived as nomads, following the herds over the plains, and most families still sent their young among herders to spend a few seasons learning the ways of old. After hearing this, Lothíriel didn't wonder to see the Riders completing their tasks before all the tents were even up.

The first night was a bit tense at first, as so many of the company did not know one another, but eventually a few younger Riders began to sing songs of their land. Music worked like some kind of a spell to loosen the mood, and soon enough the Knights and the Riders were talking softly. Horsemanship was the safe first topic to melt the ice.

Yet perhaps the most revealing and most unexpected insight to the land of Rohan came about a week into their journey. September's morning was crisp as Lothíriel emerged from her tent, still bleary and sleepy as she wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself. However stimulating it was travelling towards the capital of the horselords, there were moments she dearly missed comforts of home. She had not had a hot bath since Minas Tirith, most of her clothes smelt of horses, and she couldn't quite get used to waking up to chilly mornings. But she kept these thoughts to herself. No doubt her escort was used to much worse.

The rest of the camp was waking as well. Riders and Swan Knights spoke in soft murmurs as fires were stoked back to blazing and food was prepared. Lothíriel uttered _"good morning"_ as she passed by the members of her escort. The words almost disappeared in a mighty yawn.

Near the camp there was a small stream, bubbling cheerfully even in this early hour. Folding back the hems of her riding skirt, Lothíriel knelt down and splashed her face with cool water that presumably came all the way from the White Mountains. It was clear enough at least, without the tangy taste of fenlands further north.

Cold water made her shiver and chased away remnants of sleep. She now looked up and about, more open to the landscape and before. It was very quiet still and not even the wind had yet risen. Wisps of mist rested heavily in the dale beyond the stream. It was almost dreamlike.

Suddenly she noticed movement in fog. At first she wasn't sure if she was just imagining it, for it was so faint, but then shades began to materialise. Pale as the moon they were, which had helped to hide them in the mist until now. They moved with quiet grace so that for a minute she even wondered if these were some kind of phantoms. They all had fine, silvery coat that shimmered in early morning's light.

The herd halted some fifty feet away from her. Some of them looked her way, others were nibbling at long grass. They were larger than any other horses she had seen and nobler – except one. Lothíriel watched them as though one spell-bound, forgetting time and even herself. Here in the mist and dawn's first hour, the world of Men was faraway.

The horses began to move again, noiseless just as before. They moved on, vanishing into the mist once more, and left her there feeling like she had seen something significant, though she couldn't say what it was.

She shook her head and washed her face again. As Lothíriel began to make her way back, she wondered if it had been real, or some kind of a waking dream.

The vision of horses remained close to her thoughts even as she took seat near the fire and received some breakfast in her hands. The captain of her Swan Knights, sitting close by with his own meal almost finished, was quick to notice her strange, quiet mood.

"My lady, is everything all right?" he asked her. Lothíriel startled on her seat but was able not to spill any food in her lap or the ground.

"Captain?" she asked back in faint embarrassment; she had not made notice of the words, just the voice calling to her.

"Are you quite well, my lady?" he pressed on and frowned slightly.

"Yes, yes. Do forgive me – I was lost in thought", she hurried to reply. "I just saw some horses by the stream. I was thinking of them."

Immediately she felt quite silly. To see horses in Rohan was hardly news to anybody.

"What kind of horses?" Folca asked suddenly and she turned sharply to look at him. She hadn't noticed he was present, too.

"The kind Mithrandir used to ride in the war. The one called Shadowfax", she explained. She had seen the stallion in Minas Tirith and wondered at the extraordinary animal; he had stood out even with horses of Rohirrim. But she had not thought much of it until now.

Folca's eyes widened and he nearly dropped the piece of bread in his hand.

"My lady, are you certain of this?" he asked her urgently, leaning forward as though he dearly wanted to grasp her by shoulders and shake the answer out of her.

"Yes, very certain. Even if it seemed like a dream", she replied, wondering about the man's heated reaction.

"Then that is a matter of great import. The horses you saw are called _mearas_ , and Shadowfax is their chief. Béma – that is Oromë in your tongue – brought them long ago in Middle-earth. They are unlike other horses in mortal lands, for they are stronger and swifter, even understanding speech of Men. Since the days of Eorl the Young, they have been the symbol of our land. Only those of his House may mount and ride them, save for the Wizard Gandalf", Folca explained quickly. His words roused several questions in her mind, but the man was talking too eagerly to be interrupted.

He went on, "My lady, no one has seen _mearas_ since Théodred Prince died. It was taken as an ill omen. But if they have been seen again, then that is good news indeed. I wonder, though..."

Folca fell suddenly silent, and Lothíriel's own thoughts turned inwards. Not that she considered herself a particularly superstitious person, even if recent events might give you a reason to be, but she _knew_ the horses she had seen were unusual. She could well understand why they were important to Rohirrim – and why people would be concerned if they vanished. But why would she, a Gondorian visiting Rohan for the very first time, be one to witness their return?

"But where would they go, if they have not been seen?" she asked carefully. Folca looked up again and she could see his eyes were veiled.

"They wander freely over the plains, my lady. And the Riddermark is wide land, with most of our dwellings near to the Great West Road. What this riddle means, I cannot say. But either way I'm glad to know _mearas_ have not abandoned our people", he answered gravely. Then he said no more, but sat lost in thought for a while until he suddenly left the camp fire.

The new of the sighting spread among Riders like wildfire, and by the time the camp was down and they took to road again, they all knew of it. Lothíriel could even hear some of them speaking quietly about it; she didn't understand conversations, but could make out the word _mearas_ and King Éomer's name.

She didn't know if she just imagined it, but she felt like after that morning, Riders looked at her differently. _Mearas_ did not make another appearance, yet she didn't think she would soon forget about the morning by the stream.

So the days and nights proceeded as they rode westward. Folca taught her some simple Rohirric expressions; by the time they reached their destination, she might perhaps be able to introduce herself in their tongue and not feel like she had mangled the words over much.

Closer to Edoras they got, more there was traffic on the road, and bigger the villages on their way. Eventually they passed by Aldburg, the birth home of Éowyn and her brother the King. It was also where Eorl the Young had first raised his seat in Rohan. But they did not enter the town, as there was still hours of daylight left and they were eager to reach the capital. To herself, Lothíriel wondered if coming autumn and winter would present a chance to travel there with Éowyn.

At long last in the middle of September, Lothíriel got her first glimpse of Edoras, the capital of horselords. It stood on a great hill, surrounded by wide plains. Mountains loomed ahead, white and lofty, but did not shadow the city. A great Hall dominated the view and she knew at once it was Meduseld, the famed residence of the King of Rohan. At once she understood why it was called the Golden Hall, for it gleamed bright in sunlight. On the slopes of the hill many thatched houses stood and a great wall of pikes defended them. It was a sight not out of this age, Lothíriel thought to herself.

There was some traffic on the road to the capital, but way was made to the company of Riders and Swan Knights. Lothíriel rode in the middle of them and tried to focus on her horse instead of curiously ogling at the new sights around her, particularly the way her Rohirric escorts bowed their heads when they passed many mounds near the front gate of the city. Tiny white flowers grew in abundance over the mounds.

"Here lie their kings of old, my lady. They call it Barrowfield", said the captain of her Swan Knights, who had accompanied Father when he had travelled here for King Théoden's funeral.

Lothíriel simply muttered something in agreement. She would have a lot of questions for Éowyn.

The gates were open and the company rode through. The climb began almost immediately. A paved road snaked its way through the city; on its streets, Lothíriel saw more of the fair-haired folk, tall and lively and proud. Even in passing she noted these folk were generally wealthier than the people she had met on the way here. Some of them curiously watched the southern company and spoke among themselves. Smiling wryly to herself, Lothíriel wondered what they thought of Amrothian steeds, and if they judged the southerners' horsemanship very harshly.

Riding toward the top of the hill, one's eyes firmly fixed on Meduseld and remained so until the moment one reached the courtyard of this great Hall of Men. She could see that those who had built this place had put forth all their cunning in woodworking and carpentry. The result was surely worth their effort. Meduseld was golden indeed, with carvings so beautiful and intricate that one could easily lost sense of time trying to follow the patterns. The emblem of the blazing sun glimmered in the exterior, further convincing any traveller that this was indeed the light that shone in the heart of Rohan.

To other buildings Lothíriel paid yet little attention, and there was not a chance to take much in anyway; an army of stablehands swarmed around the newly arrived company, ready to take horses under their care. She felt a bit dazed when she dismounted and glanced around to see her Swan Knights ready and waiting.

She took a deep breath and headed for the great stairs leading up to the terrace where Meduseld stood. Halfway up to the stairs, a blur of white and gold rushed to meet her. Strong, sinewy arms wrapped tightly about Lothíriel and a laughing voice greeted her: "Welcome! Welcome to Edoras!"

"Thank you, Éowyn. It's good to see you", said Lothíriel, slightly taken aback by this enthusiastic greeting, but also pleased.

"It's good to see you, too! I hope the journey went well?" said the blonde woman as she pulled back to regard her Gondorian friend. Éowyn seemed happy and hale, with healthy colour on her creamy skin. It was quite the change compared to the pale, listless thing Lothíriel had first met in the Houses of Healing. And she was glad to know her friend had so fully left her despair behind.

She smiled.

"It was fine. I felt like quite the precious cargo, having so many warriors escorting me", she wryly noted. Her words made Éowyn laugh.

"I said as much to my brother, but he can get so overbearing sometimes. Nothing less than the very best for his friend's daughter", she said fondly, but then her expression grew apologetic as she went on to add, "Well, perhaps that sounds a little contradictory considering he's absent. Éomer meant to be here when you arrive, but he was unexpectedly called away a few days ago. There was some business in the Westfold that couldn't wait."

"Oh, it's quite all right. I don't expect either of you to drop everything just for my sake", Lothíriel hurried to say. She wasn't sure why, but a part of her was relieved King Éomer wasn't present. Why should she fear meeting the man? Even she didn't know.

"It's good you came, though. It should remind us both that there's a world outside the borders of our own land", Éowyn said seriously. But then another smile lit her features and she pulled at Lothíriel's hand. "Now, let me just make sure your Knights will be taken care of, and then we can get inside. There's so much I want to show you, but first I would think a hot bath and supper are in order!"

With a smile, Lothíriel followed her friend inside. As long as Éowyn's warm geniality persisted, she could very well handle one grumpy horselord.

* * *

Lothíriel's first days in Edoras passed swiftly. Éowyn, along with a few lady friends, was absolutely delighted to show her just about everything first in the Golden Hall and then on the streets of the capital. She took her guest on a full tour of Meduseld, excluding only the King's rooms. Lothíriel felt like they could spend hours just exploring the feasting hall and the abundance of detail in it. Carved wood, colourful stones paving the floor, rich tapestries and proud pennants... Éowyn and the other ladies knew countless tales about things that had happened here, and the White Lady's voice grew vehement when she showed her favourite hangings to her friend and spoke of events depicted in them.

She was given lodgings in the Golden Hall itself, as that would be more convenient for her stay of several months, and Éowyn was the eager hostess wanting to provide the esteemed guest with every possible comfort. Lothíriel's room was not large, but it was homely and cosy, with beautiful and warm beddings, soft pelts on the floor, and same well-made furniture as in the rest of the Hall. She especially loved the green and gold blanket of finest dyed wool, which was as warm as it was lovely. Lothíriel decided right away she would have to purchase one like it if she was able.

As they made their way in Meduseld or around the royal holdings, Éowyn would introduce her to the people they met, servants and guards and nobility alike. Some were too busy or wary to pay much attention to the Gondorian lady, but others had a multitude of questions to the southern guest. Lothíriel soon learnt that Rohirrim had their own name for Gondor, and it was Stoningland. It was one of the few words she could recognise in the flowing speech of the horselords in addition to the most basic greetings Folca had taught her. It seemed her reputation had rather preceded her, and many introductions began with the same question: "Aren't you the one who saw _mearas?"_

It didn't take Lothíriel to realise that what she had seen that morning was even more significant than she had first conceived.

Much more remained to be seen. The kitchens with its own little universe of bustle and haste, the King's stables where some of the finest horses of Middle-earth were tended to, and the streets of Edoras filled with noise and life. She couldn't help but admire the wealth of detail in Rohirric crafts, even if materials were simple and common. But the wool cloth she was presented to at the markets was finer than anything she had seen in Gondor and animal pelts so shiny and well-tended that she imagined it wouldn't be long before these things brought unseen levels of trade to Rohan.

But though Lothíriel could see the makings of new prosperity, it was also clear that war was still close. Food was nothing extravagant even in Meduseld. Folk of Edoras seemed fairly hale, but at the markets she also saw some whose last hearty meal was but a distant memory. Others there were with missing limbs and haunted eyes, and one day when Éowyn was distributing alms in the poorer district of the city, Lothíriel even saw one man whose both arms had been amputated. In a quiet, solemn voice Éowyn said that the capital had received many refugees after the burning of Westfold. Some families had found it simply impossible to return to their ruined farmsteads and villages that no longer existed, and others had come to seek a new life here when their husbands and sons had fallen in the faraway fields of Gondor.

Éowyn must have seen something troubled on her face, for she hurried to add in a lighter voice, "It may seem severe now, but there's hope in the land. Aragorn promised to send grain to get us through the winter and the first shipment should arrive in a few weeks. And our own goods will be distributed more efficiently than before according to the need of each region. My brother has worked hard to make sure every mouth will be fed."

"I hope my being here with my Knights won't exhaust your stores over much", Lothíriel said a little uneasily. She hadn't known the situation was so grave.

Her friend shook her head and made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

"Of course not, sweet fool! You are our guest, Lothíriel. It's a matter of honour that you'll find yourself comfortable during your stay", Éowyn stated firmly. "Like I said, help from Gondor is already coming, and Aragorn was more generous than he needed to be."

Her words consoled Lothíriel, but even so, the conversation remained close to her thoughts. In coming months, modest appearance and manner would be wise. A people as proud as Rohirrim would not take it well if she were to flaunt her father's wealth while they were still recovering from war's torments.

Meals were a lively business in Meduseld. Most of the household gathered together to eat – and make noise, as it sometimes seemed. The feasting hall would fill with clatter of dishes, voices rising and falling depending on how well the kitchen staff had succeeded, until tables emptied again and folk wandered off to their labours or to pass the night. First few days Lothíriel felt quite overwhelmed in the middle of all this, even though her seat was on the high dais next to Éowyn. Her friend's tact never failed, though, and some evenings they took supper alone in what had once been the Queen's Solar but was presently in Éowyn's use. After the meal, they would spend the rest of the evening quietly, unless she invited a few ladies over

So passed the first week, and it went by so quickly that the two women did not much get to the actual reason of Lothíriel being here. It was agreed they would start the lessons once she was settled down and knew her way in the capital. Most of her guard departed again, having rested and packed provisions for the journey home; while some training with Rohirrim would no doubt have interested them, they hoped to avoid the autumn storms that would eventually begin. With the Knights Lothíriel sent her first letters back home, telling her family she had arrived and was now safe and sound in Meduseld. With them went those of Éowyn's to Faramir – a pile equal to the one he had sent to her. Lothíriel wondered if her friend had slept at all for the entire week while composing her answers.

One thing only was yet lacking, and that was the King of Rohan himself. On the other hand, his name was often spoken especially in the Golden Hall, making one feel like he was present even now. Lothíriel was quick to understand these people put high hopes in their new king – he was respected and admired among them as a tireless, just leader.

These notions softened her own expectations a bit and she began to feel like she had been quite foolish to be nervous to meeting King Éomer again.

As it happened, she was soon to question herself once more.

Lothíriel had been six days in Edoras when dark clouds rolled over from the west, covering the capital with heavy but swift downpour. It passed already at midday, leaving the courtyard full of little pools and muddy spots. In the air, there was the unmistakeable scent of autumn that even Lothíriel recognised, though she was used to Dol Amroth's milder climate. But she found she liked the crisp feeling of it and as Éowyn was busy with some errands, she decided to go and take a short walk outside. She kept close to the Golden Hall, though. While Edoras was not as big as Minas Tirith, she still didn't know it well enough not to get lost.

On her way back she paid a visit to her horse, now remaining under the expert care of Rohan's finest stablehands. The little mare looked finer than she ever had: her coat was shiny and her eyes bright, and Lothíriel was pleased to hear one of the stablehands comment on what a beautiful gait the mare had. She hoped he did not say so merely to flatter her.

Wondering whether Éowyn was freed of her duties for the day, and if they might even begin their lessons today, Lothíriel made her way outside once again. There was a strong blast of wind – it was starker and colder here than what she was accustomed to, and so she lowered her face against the weather and pulled her cloak tighter about herself.

By now she had a pretty good idea of where the Golden Hall was in relation to the royal stables, and so she began to make her way, swift and straight as possible.

Lothíriel did not get far. Suddenly, as she was making her way through the courtyard, she stepped in a pool and her foot slipped. She fell and groaned as her hems and the palms of her hands were soaked in mud.

But then she became aware of something else. Suddenly, she felt there were eyes on her, watching her every move.

She looked up. There not four feet from her was a great grey warhorse, and on the top of it sat a man in armour.

He was tall and fair-haired, the very definition of a horselord of Rohan. He looked absurdly big with his red-brown armour, but also at ease with himself and with his horse. His face was hard and strong, like the wind had shaped it to exercise him out of everything that resembled weakness. She noted there was a beard that made him look just a little bit wild to her Gondorian eyes, especially accompanied by his long blond hair. But his gaze met her own as sharp and strong as steel, and he sat in the saddle proud and straight. There was only one word she could think of to describe him: _kingly._

But she did not think of this long. For Lothíriel was still down in the muddy pool and the degree of the man's authority only made her feel more embarrassed. Because it was him, the last man she'd have liked to encounter right now – to be witness to her less than graceful moment.

Yet there he remained in all his mounted glory, tall and fair and fierce as in songs, and all she could do was stumble up on her feet. Lothíriel managed a clumsy bow and a hasty _"Sire"_ , and then she was already making her muddy way up to Meduseld.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here is a new chapter! I've had bit of a dry spell lately (as far as LOTR fanfictions go), but I think I'm back in the saddle again! :)

I enjoyed writing Lothíriel's first introduction to the Rohirric culture, and perhaps now that we have that under our belts, we can get to exploring characters and their relationships a little more. I know, I know, there was not enough Éomer in this chapter, but I hope to fix that soon! :)

Thank you for reading and reviewing! Your comments are, as always, much appreciated!

* * *

 **Tibblets -** I hope you will enjoy this story!

 **Guest #1 -** Thank you! :)

 **HannahKathleen -** I do hope you like it!

 **Anon -** Glad to hear that, so am I!

 **Melissa Black13 -** Thanks, hopefully you will enjoy it!

 **Catspector -** That's good to hear, as I was hoping to reveal her character before getting to the story itself. :)

 **Guest #2 -** I hope you will like it! :) Yes, Éothiriel is what I often call it (especially at my blog) for convenience's sake. Anyway, I do hope to explore their friendship a bit more in this story, so let's hope I can deliver in that regard!

 **QueenLiVII -** Here's to hoping it will satisfy! :)

 **Guest #3 -** Hopefully you will like it. :)

 **Victoria LeRoux -** And here it comes at last!

 **Certh -** Happy to hear that! It's not always easy to create such atmospheres, so I'm glad to have succeeded. I would imagine her awkwardness over Éomer is at least in part due to insecurity, but we'll explore that, too!

Also thanks for pointing out those mistakes! I've got them fixed now. :) Please don't hesitate to let me know if you see typos or other such things.

 **Wondereye -** Thank you!

 **Rubandebluie -** We'll see about that! But you're right - it's always interesting to write and read about him when he is in his own element. :)

 **Jo -** Thank you!

 **Katia0203 -** Yes, it seemed like a nice way to let the reader know what this is about! And we'll see about those feelings, and how they take form! ;)

 **Nerdanel -** I'm rather excited about it, too! And I guessed you probably meant something along that vein. :D

 **inperfection -** Thank you! I hope you will continue to enjoy it. :)


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Having changed her stained gown into a clean one, a dress of silver-grey with blue trimmings, Lothíriel returned to the great hall of Meduseld. The atmosphere felt somehow different than until now: there was bustle and excitement in the air, many voices were chatting and she was seeing many more tall Riders in fine green cloaks than in previous days. Even if one didn't see the man himself, one would guess from all this that the King had returned. She had known people generally spoke well of him, but it was different to feel it.

Clasping her hands before her, she mused to herself that for a warlike people, it was easy to love a war-hero – no matter how dour his personality was. And few kings got to begin like he had, at the end of a great war and a shining victory behind his back.

But as soon as these thoughts passed her mind, a sound at the other end of the hall caught her attention. There was Éowyn laughing and talking animatedly with her brother, who was in fact smiling for once. She didn't remember seeing him do that, not even when witnessing her unfortunate – and probably highly comical – tumble outside.

Lothíriel bit her lip. How was she going to manage this? It was bad enough to be a little sister to his friends – now she also knew that every time he looked at her, he would remember her on her knees in that damned puddle. In a sudden bout of despair she thought of all the graceful ladies of Gondor he'd have met during his time in Minas Tirith. _They_ would never make a fool of themselves right in the front of King of Rohan. But here she was in a position she knew many coveted; having the friendship of the Lady Éowyn of Rohan was no small thing.

This was the thought to console her again. For she _was_ here for Éowyn, not to try and impress King Éomer. It didn't matter if he thought she was a clumsy fool as long as she had Éowyn's friendship.

Her musings were interrupted by the approach of an elderly man, whom she soon enough recognised as one of the lords of the King's Council. Éowyn had introduced her to this man the day after her arrival. She recalled his name was Lord Leofsige and he was of an old noble line. His beard was neat and trimmed small, quite the contrast to most men of Rohan, and his greying hair was pulled away from his face by two braids fastened at the back of his head. His clothing was moderate but made of fine wool, and at his throat glimmered a single round brooch made of gold.

"My lady Lothíriel, might I talk to you for a moment?" he asked politely and gave her a bow.

She smiled and curtsied, hiding her surprise. What business could a noble Rohir have with her, now that she was settled down in Meduseld and most people had already questioned her about Dol Amroth as courtesy would require?

"Of course, my lord. Is there anything I can help you with?" she inquired and regarded him curiously.

He seemed to study her for a moment, as though to measure her in some way. Lothíriel met his eyes expectantly, until at length Leofsige cleared his throat and began to talk again.

"My lady, I hope you don't mind me asking... you see, some of the lords wondered if your visit means there is a particular agreement between yourself and Éomer King. Should we be prepared to hear happy news some time soon?" he asked her in a lowered voice and threw a side-glance to the general direction of his king. But he was still absorbed in his conversation with Éowyn, and at any rate he would have been much too far to hear this conversation even if it was exchanged in normal volume.

Be that as it may, Lothíriel was rather taken aback by the question. She blushed, though it was much more due to surprise than any embarrassment.

"Oh, no, not at all. I'm here on behalf of the Lady Éowyn, who is to marry my cousin the Lord Steward of Gondor", she hurried to say. Well, maybe she shouldn't be so astonished to have this question asked. Rohirrim probably knew their king was good friends with her father and now that war was over, people's minds would naturally turn to thoughts of rebuilding, marriage included. Politically, it would even make certain degree of sense to establish such a union between her House and that of King Éomer's.

A very faint smile appeared on Lord Leofsige's features. She even thought he looked happily relieved!

"In that case... if I may be so bold, my lady, might I make a suggestion? I have a son, around your age –" he began to speak, but thankfully Lothíriel had already got over the worst of her surprise and her mind was in working order once more.

"My lord, I must ask you to stop right there. I really cannot answer to such proposals by myself. If you have something in mind, you ought to make it known to my father, Prince Imrahil. Though, in his and my own behalf I can say that I am unavailable while Lady Éowyn has need of me", she quickly replied and was silently satisfied at how readily and confidently it came out. Abruptly she was very thankful to her Aunt Ivriniel for instructing her in the art of court manoeuvring.

The ageing nobleman couldn't quite hide his disappointment but to his credit, he didn't press on the matter. Whether it was due to her eloquence or just his respect for the esteemed Lady Éowyn, Lothíriel couldn't say. But it didn't matter either way, as long as she was able to steer clear of marriage proposals.

"Very well, my lady. But if you change your mind, you may consider my offer still effective", Lord Leofsige said and bowed once again. She curtsied and offered him an apologetic smile before he took his leave of her. When he had turned away, she let out a breath she hadn't noticed holding.

Lothíriel's thoughts were fairly preoccupied when she joined Éowyn for dinner. She didn't even think of the possibility of the King being there too, but as it happened, at dinnertime Éowyn was quick to make apologies on the behalf of her brother. She had hoped he would join them for the meal, but apparently he had some urgent business to deal with, thus leaving the two women to dine alone. Lothíriel was not certain how to feel about it.

The dinner was set in the Queen's solar, as Lothíriel knew to expect by now. Éowyn had told her soon after her arrival that she was currently using that space, seeing her brother _"wasn't like to bring an actual queen in Meduseld any time soon"._

As Lord Leofsige's words were still fresh in her mind, Lothíriel did not comment on that.

"I admit I was a little disappointed when my brother couldn't come join us", said Éowyn as they took seat at the table and Lothíriel was unfolding a napkin in her lap. She glanced at her friend and saw the keen look in Éowyn's blue eyes as the blonde woman continued, "I had hoped to show there's no reason for you to feel wary of him. I know Éomer can be as irritable as a bear someone has poked with a stick, but with friends and family he's the gentlest man you'll ever know."

Lothíriel winced before trying to smooth her expression into a sheepish smile.

"To tell you the truth, I regretted writing that bit as soon as the letter was sent. I didn't want to make you feel like I'm somehow scared of him. It was a stupid thing to write and I hope you can forget about it", she hurried to say.

Éowyn did not seem convinced. Dipping her spoon in her portion of hearty vegetable stew, she considered Lothíriel with those keen eyes of hers.

"I hope you don't mind me asking – has he behaved poorly towards you? If that is the case, I will have him apologise to you as soon as possible. But even so, I'm sure he didn't mean to insult you in any way. Sometimes he just speaks so bluntly and people are offended, even though he only considers it a show of mutual respect to be saying the honest truth", she explained solemnly.

"I understand that much. My brother Elphir has spoken much about your land and people and he also explained that a man or woman's word is the bond and measure of their honour. But to answer your question – no, your brother has not mistreated me. It's like I told you, Éowyn. Whatever I wrote you were just the silly notions of an excited and a little nervous girl", Lothiriel said and felt warmth creeping up her neck.

Her friend studied her for a bit before letting out a small sigh.

"In any case, it is not our way nor should it ever be to make our friends feel uncomfortable by our manners – or lack of them. I only wish that you feel welcome here, Lothíriel. I know my brother hopes the same, no matter how gruff he may seem at times", Éowyn stated firmly and pushed a small basket of fresh bread closer to her.

She flashed a smile, one of those bright expressions that made one keenly remember Éowyn was rightly named the fairest maiden in all of Rohan. She continued to speak in lighter tone, "But enough of that for now, I think. Please, tell me how are you finding your first week in Edoras."

Lothíriel relaxed somewhat and smiled as well.

"It has been wonderful. Everyone has been so kind in welcoming me here, it feels more like I'm some long lost relative rather than a guest", she said warmly. Éowyn let out a silvery laugh.

"Do not expect it to stop any time soon. War and uncertainty have shadowed life in the Mark for so long, we don't really know what to do with ourselves now that friends come to visit us for more peaceful reasons", she said in wry humour and her blue eyes twinkled.

"Yes, that seems correct. I even got a marriage proposal today!" Lothíriel said and shook her head, still a little bewildered about the affair. She didn't mention how Lord Leofsige had at first assumed there was some kind of an agreement between her and the King. Not that she thought she had ever had such chances, but after witnessing her sitting in a puddle, he was even less likely to pursue her with amorous intentions.

Éowyn chortled.

"I'm not surprised. Winning your hand would be the opportunity of a lifetime for any lord in this land", she said and reached to pat her friend's hand. "It won't be the last offer you will receive, so you may want to polish your act – unless, of course, you do wish to find a spouse in Rohan."

Her voice grew teasing towards the end of the sentence. Now it was Lothíriel's turn to scoff.

"I'm here to help you, not to frolic with a bunch of eager horselords", she stated firmly and ripped a piece of bread apart a little too vigorously. Yet she couldn't help but laugh a little when she saw her friend snigger behind her hand.

"That makes quite the picture", Éowyn commented lightly. "Young men of Edoras will be so devastated."

But then something serious appeared on her features and she looked straight at her Gondorian friend.

"To be frank, you must understand that your appeal doesn't end with the name of your father. I have heard talk among people that you have good luck, Lothíriel – and maybe even something more", she said, lowering her voice as though they were talking about something highly confidential.

Now Lothíriel grew puzzled and she lowered her spoon to gaze quizzically at her friend.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's about the horses you saw while travelling here. Did your escorts mention no one had seen _mearas_ since my cousin died? It has been a cause of great concern among us, though I imagine you might find it superstitious. But _mearas_ are closely connected with our House. The bond is seen as a sign of legitimacy, in way. It worried my brother very much, in fact... already there were mutters that perhaps he was not the rightful heir after all, if _mearas_ had abandoned him. Now they show themselves to you", Éowyn spoke solemnly and there was a faint crease across her brow. Lothíriel listened to her in silence and wonder. The matter was more important than she had even realised.

"The captain of the escort was surprised to hear I had seen them", she said at length, trying to get her confused thoughts in order, "but I didn't realise it would hold such implications."

Éowyn smiled wryly and broke a piece of bread between her hands.

"I can understand that. Just know that Rohirrim have their own beliefs about things... you'll have noticed our land is not rich and grand like Gondor. But what we do have are horses unparalleled, and so we get jealous and anxious about them sometimes. And _mearas_ above all, because through the centuries, their added lineage has made our herds strong and swift and unmatched in realms of Men. It's believed they communicate many signs about the fates and fortunes of the Riddermark. And even if you doubted such notions, the bond that Eorl's descendants have with _mearas_ is a source of great political power for the royal House. If that power could be seized..." she explained, until her voice trailed off and she shook her head. Her expression had now become very grave.

"I see", Lothíriel said slowly, hardly remembering her meal anymore. "Just so you know, I didn't come here to get entangled in political intrigue."

Her friend let out a soft laugh as her expression eased a little.

"Oh, I know. But don't be surprised if you hear some ludicrous things. People will want to try and figure out what it means that you saw _mearas._ They might even say you're somehow connected… and any connection to the horses of Béma will make a woman highly interesting to a lot of unmarried Eorlingas _",_ Éowyn said and bit into her bread.

Lothíriel grimaced.

"Maybe I should write my father. Tell him not to wonder much if he begins to receive a lot of offers for my hand", she muttered glumly. She sighed, "Maybe I _should_ have brought Amrothos along, after all."

Éowyn let out a soft laugh.

"You think he could drive suitors away?" she asked, now lighter in tone.

"Either by his sword or that thing he calls a sense of humour", Lothíriel answered and smiled a little once again. It was reassuring to think of her family, even though they were far away from her.

"He may do just that at the wedding", Éowyn said and considered this for a bit. "Though perhaps we should try and avoid it, however unforgettable it might be."

"Yes, I imagine there are better forms of entertainment", Lothíriel agreed.

For a moment they both ate in silence, but then Éowyn looked up again and spoke.

"Do you think we could begin with the lessons tomorrow? You're all settled down now, and with my brother home again, I won't be so busy", she said and poured some more ale for herself and mead for her friend.

"We definitely can. Where do you prefer to begin?" Lothíriel asked and lifted her glass to her lips.

"There is so much! My Sindarin is quite dreadful, and I have forgotten at least half of what I used to know of Gondor's history. Uncle had us tutored when we were children, but for a long time there was no need for many things we learnt then. As for court etiquette, it might be safer to leave that be until I have a better grasp on what I'm getting into here", Éowyn answered heatedly. Red spots appeared on her cheeks and her eyes were very bright. Lothíriel could only imagine how it felt like to have this kind of change ahead of you, knowing that your world would turn to something so different.

Her friend hesitated for a little bit, until she added in a softer voice, "And… if you could tell me about Ithilien, then I would be most grateful."

Lothíriel smiled.

"Then we have much work to do."

* * *

The Hall was already quiet and dim when Lothíriel left her chamber to pursue a late evening's craving for a cup of tea. She had sat up late preparing and planning for lessons to begin on the morrow, drafting up notes and checking some things in a volume that contained the brief history of Gondor. She had brought it with her to help with the lessons, though now she found herself longing immensely for her father's library. Perhaps she could send for some books once they got the lessons going... and wondered if messengers riding between Edoras and Dol Amroth would much appreciate having to ship a pile of books on the backs of their horses.

Éowyn seemed eager to learn, so it didn't feel like teaching her would be much of a challenge. Viewing her notes, Lothíriel had thought of how brave her friend was. Leaving behind her old life and stepping into one she could scarcely imagine yet… but then, Father had always said that few things gave you courage like love did.

As it was so late already, she didn't expect to meet other people on the way, except for night guards making their rounds. Soon enough she began to regret this, because she hadn't realised how different the Hall looked when it was dark. All corridors looked the same to her. Now which way was the kitchen again?

After hesitating a bit she chose a direction and began to make her way. How hard could it be to find the kitchens? She'd probably come across a night guard soon enough, and then she could ask for directions.

She was sure she should be able to reach her destination without having to pass through the Hall, but that was where she found herself anyway. The great space was dimly lit, with only a few lamps glowing softly, and some moonlight streaming through the triangular windows near the ceiling. And by the massive open fireplace at the centre of the Hall stood a tall figure.

He was staring down in the dying flames with a poker in his hand, lost in thought. He was mostly turned away from her so she couldn't see his expression, but she saw the red glow of fire basking him half in light. Why was King Éomer about at this time? One would think he'd be very tired after his travel.

Lothíriel was still wondering how she might slip past him – or find another way to the kitchens – when he suddenly turned to look straight at her. Either she had made a noise or the man had some additional supernatural sense that had alarmed him to her presence.

"I'm sorry", Lothíriel stammered in embarrassment, feeling heat rise up her neck. "I didn't mean to disturb you, Sire."

"It's fine, my lady", he said at length, speaking so quietly that she had to step closer to hear. "There's no order against walking in the Hall at night."

She smiled a little awkwardly and tried to come up with a most natural way of excusing herself to get away, but then she noticed the way he looked. His clothes looked crumpled. Raw grief mangled his features and it was made even more striking by the half-light on him and his eyes, black in this atmosphere, were like dark pits where hope was lost.

Concern rose in her breast and Lothíriel took another step closer to him.

"Is everything all right, my lord?" she asked him carefully. In her experience, the gruff warrior types hated to be caught off guard. But never before had she considered that sour demeanour might hide so much pain.

Lothíriel didn't expect him to answer so bluntly as he did. While she knew Rohirrim were famed for their bold and honest manner of speaking, it didn't mean they shared just _everything._

"I visited Théodred's grave while in Westfold. It was for the first time… I know I should have gone sooner. But I couldn't stand the idea when I had barely had time to bury my uncle", he said, still in that same quiet voice. He hang the poker in a hook by the fireplace and let out a heavy sigh that seemed to echo with entire mountains of regret. "I have not been able to think of anything else ever since."

His response, so straightforward and sincere, rather took her aback. They didn't even know each other, and yet he revealed this painful thing to her… but then she realised not knowing him didn't mean she couldn't understand him. She thought of her own cousin Boromir, so brave and yet so alone in the end. People had called him the best and the brightest of Gondor, and she had thought so too: her great, tall cousin whose mere name could send orcs to running. How losing him had veritably driven Denethor mad with grief…

"It doesn't seem fair", she said softly, clasping her hands before her. "Why does one so good have to die?"

The grimace on King Éomer's face deepened, like her words brought him even more agony.

"He thought I was coming to help. Elfhelm told me later. Even as he lay taking his last, Théodred believed that I'd ride to save the day, and I failed him", he said in a low, rough voice and lowered his face.

Minute details of the War of the Ring and events leading to it were well known to her by now – her brothers had given her their accounts acquired first-hand from such as King Elessar, and Éowyn had told her everything that had taken place in Rohan. And thus Lothíriel knew of the part Prince Théodred had played in defending the Fords of Isen… how he had taken his last stand there and waited for his cousin to arrive. But thanks to schemes of their enemies, the King's son had died and King Éomer, then the Third Marshal, had not been able to help him.

Quietly she approached the King of Rohan, until she stood right in front of him. She touched his hand gently.

"It's not your fault", she told him, soft but very serious. Guilt like this could eat a man away, even if it clearly was not deserved.

His eyes widened and he looked at her in quiet wonder. She felt warmth creep up her neck and so looked down in embarrassment. Hopefully he wouldn't think she was overstepping.

"My cousin Boromir sometimes talked about Prince Théodred, Sire. He said your cousin's courage was inspiring. Both of them may be gone, but perhaps their spirit can still inspire those who followed and cared about them", Lothíriel said carefully, offering a small smile to the King.

"Yes", he said quietly, "It would be a way for him to live on."

For a moment his eyes remained unreflective and dark, like some grief still lingered. But then he seemed to shake himself and he fixed his gaze on Lothiriel again.

"My lady, I didn't yet have an opportunity to apologise to you – both for the lack of proper greeting today, and for not getting down to help you. I was being very rude", he said and made a little bow. It looked a little awkward, as though he wasn't yet used to making such gestures.

She lifted her hand and waved it dismissively.

"It's all right, Sire. Now I understand the frame of mind you were then. Manners are not close to one's thoughts when one is grieving a loved one", she said and hoped her smile was forthcoming. She wondered if he noticed her relief – if he was as good at reading people as it was said. Because she _was_ relieved. If this conversation was it all to bring her to good terms with him, then she would be happy indeed.

"Even so", he said in a low voice and folded his hands behind his back, "Grief is no reason to behave so horribly. I haven't even thanked you for coming to stay in Meduseld and helping my sister. For truthfully I am glad that you are here, my lady. I am grateful in Éowyn's behalf."

"Don't mention it, Sire. She is my friend and I'm happy to help her", Lothíriel answered warmly. Even if she had previously thought him a gruff man, she had never doubted the love he had for his sister. And Éowyn – well, except for Faramir, she spoke of no other man so admiringly as she did of her brother.

"I imagine that means we may consider ourselves very lucky to have your good grace, Lady Lothíriel", King Éomer said and a slight smile appeared on his face. And when it did, it softened his features and revealed that he was a handsome man indeed. But to herself, Lothíriel thought maybe there was more to Éowyn's words than just sisterly bias, and he really _was_ the gentlest man one would ever know.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here is a new chapter! I hope you liked it. :)

Personally I did enjoy writing this one, exploring the (political) atmosphere of Edoras and Meduseld in particular a little more. I should imagine it puts Lothíriel's seeing _mearas_ in a fairly different light... and Éomer id now properly introduced, with an explanation to his ungallant actions in last chapter!

Thank you for reading and reviewing! If you have time, let me know what you think!

* * *

 **Nerdanel -** Glad to hear that! It is, as ever, interesting to explore Rohirrim and their culture from Lothíriel's POV. :) I hope this chapter explains his actions (or lack of them)!

 **EStrunk -** Yes, it was a rather unfortunate meeting! I hope he was able to redeem himself in this one, though. :D

 **Anon -** I can't promise anything, but we'll see about that! ;) I do have a fairly good idea of what he was thinking, and maybe we'll find out sooner or later.

 **Rubandepluie -** Happy to hear that! I'm really enjoying it as well.

I guess I get a lot of my drive to write from the fact that this is a relaxing hobby for me. It's a way to escape the demands of real world for a bit. But a multitude of things inspire me, to be honest. For one, I simply love Éomer as a character and I always wanted to read more about him, so I guess that helps! But situations, some times real life or in fiction, can give me a boost, too. Not to mention music is a big help, too!

 **alia00 -** Thanks!

 **Hobbitpony1 -** Thank you!

 **MissCallaLilly -** She tried her best, indeed! :D

 **Catspector -** It was quite unfortunate, yes! And her seeing _mearas_ counts for more than she even guessed.

 **Boramir -** Thank you! :)

 **Bell -** Thank you for taking the time to comment! And I'm glad you liked it the chapter. :) Hopefully, this chapter explains a little bit why he wasn't getting down to help her!

 **Jo -** Glad to hear you think so! :D

 **inperfection -** It was fun to write it, too. And I'm really enjoying writing Éowyn, too!


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Lothíriel's mood had been quiet and thoughtful when she had got back to her room, and only when she was in the bed and had pulled covers over herself had she remembered about her intentions to get some tea. But she had felt too tired to venture out again, and so blew out her candle and curled up under the soft blankets.

She had fallen asleep thinking of the a pair of dark eyes and how tonight she had for the first time seen such flicker of warmth in them.

The morning was chillier than ever since her arrival in Edoras. With a groan she rolled out of bed and stumbled around until she found her thick woollen robe, newly purchased from the capital's finest dressmaker. It was deep red in colour, much unlike her usual repertoire of blues and silver. But something about Rohan had given her an appreciation for warm, earthy colours.

She found her slippers, too, and then felt sufficiently warm to splash her face with some cold water.

Moments later entered her maid, a young woman of the name of Hild; she was Captain Éothain's sister. She was fair-haired and had same blue eyes as her older brother, same wide cheekbones. And she was taller than Lothíriel, with curvaceous figure she didn't seem to be aware of yet, but was sure to make her very popular among young men of Edoras. Hild had been shy when she had first started as the esteemed guest's maid, but she had quickly warmed up and was now smiling brightly as she bid good morning in Rohirric.

"Did you sleep well, my lady?" asked Hild as she switched to Common Tongue. Lothíriel's Rohirric did not yet allow much small talk.

"Well enough, Hild. I'm finally starting to get used to all the small noises in Meduseld. It's so different to my father's palace. I'm not used to not hearing the sea", Lothíriel answered. In her dreams, though, she could some nights hear the rising of the tide.

"For my part, I can hardly imagine what the sea sounds like. It must be quite terrible", Hild commented. Her voice implied she was perfectly happy not having to find out. Lothíriel hid a smile.

"People are comforted by different things", she stated at length. "Surely sea is terrible, but it is beautiful, too. And it's the source of livelihood for Dol Amroth, and for that my people love it."

Hild hemmed something non-committally and began to dig through the finely carved chest at the foot of the bed.

"What would you like to wear today, my lady?" Hild asked, carefully shifting through folded pieces of clothing.

"Something easy and practical, I think. I'll be holed up in the Queen's Solar with Lady Éowyn at least until afternoon. There's no reason to sit in state while I teach her some basic Sindarin", said Lothíriel.

Hild produced a deep blue gown made of fine wool and for a moment they were busy lacing it on. The maid worked swiftly and so it wasn't long before Lothíriel was seated and Hild was brushing her hair.

The quiet moment also reminded her of some thoughts that had been in her mind last night before she had fallen asleep. And seeing Hild was sister to Captain Éothain, second in command to the King and reportedly his good friend, who better to answer some of those questions?

"Hild, may I ask you something?" Lothíriel inquired at last.

"Of course, my lady", the maid answered absent-mindedly, combing through her dark hair.

Lothíriel hesitated for a minute and hoped her question wasn't too prying.

"Do you know King Éomer well?" she asked at length.

"As well as anyone, I suppose. Éothain knows him much better. They have been friends since they were both young lads, but I was too small at the time to participate in their games", Hild answered. She laid the brush aside and began to arrange Lothíriel's hair in three neat braids, one at each side of the head and one on the top, which then came together to form a single braid to fall down her back. It was a very unusual way for a lady of Gondor to wear her hair, but Lothíriel found she liked the imagination Rohirrim put to these adornments, and so she usually gave Hild free hand.

"Would you say he's a happy man?" she asked after another moment of silence.

Hild didn't say anything at first. When she spoke at length, her tone was wary.

"Men of duty rarely are happy, or so my brother Éothain says. Éomer King is of the House of Eorl, and the ruling house has always dealt with troubles and sorrows that are not known to their people", she spoke solemnly as her clever fingers worked over Lothíriel's hair.

Lothíriel fell silent and thought of Hild's careful answer. Obviously, the maid had been trying not to say too much. But still her words revealed enough. She now understood her initial assessment over King Éomer's character was quite far from the truth.

She thought again of the conversation last night. What did it make him feel now in bright daylight? Did he regret talking to her with such raw honesty and revealing his doubt and grief? She shuddered. After last night's camraderie, it would be a pity to go back to the earlier wariness.

When Hild was done, Lothíriel thanked her, slipped her feet in soft ankle boots that were infinitely more practical and reasonable here in Meduseld than a dainty pair of slippers, and then exited her rooms. She could already hear sounds from the great hall. Lothíriel headed that way, too. Her stomach growled impatiently.

Many of the royal household were already seated by the tables, which would be cleared away once again when breakfast was finished. Each morning until now, Lothíriel had confidently made her way to the dais to sit next to Éowyn. But now her stride was not so certain: this morning, the King held the centre spot and suddenly she wasn't sure if it was still fine for her to have a seat in his table. She searched for Éowyn's face for reassurance. Her friend's eyes met her own and the White Lady flashed her a welcoming smile. At once Lothíriel felt at ease again.

But when she got to the dais, a pair of dark eyes fixed on her. Then came a smile – a faint one, and it seemed to be more in his eyes than his features, but it still nearly made her stumble. Heat rushed up her neck but thankfully, Lothíriel was able to retain her balance.

King Éomer tactfully ignored her clumsy little moment. He rose on his feet, passed by his sister who sat by his side, and pulled back the chair right next to Éowyn. As he did, he bowed his head and greeted her, "Good morning, my lady."

"Good morning, Sire. Éowyn", Lothíriel said and managed to mask her surprise. She folded the hems of her skirt and sat down.

"And to you, my friend!" Éowyn replied. Her smile was cheerful and her blue eyes twinkled as though she was privy to some kind of a private joke.

King Éomer took seat again and pushed a basket of freshly baked bread to Lothíriel's direction. Éowyn helpfully passed it along.

"So, my lady", he said as he returned to his half-finished meal, "I hope you have settled down all right in Meduseld. Is there anything you require? Are the conditions acceptable to you?"

He sounded so formal when he made these questions and quickly she wondered if he was acting thus because last night had left him just as clueless as she had felt before. But Lothíriel quickly dismissed the idea. A famous warrior king surely had no reason to feel taken aback by his friend's young daughter – even if he had revealed some raw griefs to her recently.

"I'm quite comfortable. Don't worry about it, Sire. And Éowyn has spared no effort in making me feel welcome", Lothíriel said and cast a smile at the King.

"As I very well should, considering you have agreed to stay with us for the whole winter and teach me", Éowyn put in firmly. She was leaning back in her chair and held a mug of tea between her hands, giving it an occasional blow to cool it down a little bit.

The White Lady glanced at her brother, "In fact, we're starting the lessons after breakfast."

"What will you be studying?" he inquired.

"I was thinking of gauging Éowyn's grasp of Sindarin", Lothíriel said. It should be an easy thing for her to teach, seeing it was the tongue she used with her own family. While she didn't doubt Faramir's willingness to carry on a conversation in Westron, she also knew how the Elven tongue was regarded in Gondor. Commanding it fluently was often seen as a sign of rank and sophistication and there were some circles that would eagerly use it to make one feel left out – although Lothíriel sometimes felt that the fiercest gatekeepers of Sindarin were also those who were most unsure of their own capability. But either way, Sindarin was King Elessar's own native tongue as it was his wife's, and this fact was bound to have some consequences in the court.

Éowyn made a harsh sound in the back of her throat.

"In that case, you should prepare yourself for something very ridiculous. I can't emphasise enough how poorly I manage it", she said and took a sip of her tea.

But Lothíriel was quick to set things straight.

"I didn't come here to laugh at your failings, Éowyn, but to help you overcome them. No true teacher ridicules their pupil for the things they don't yet know", she stated sternly. Right when she spoke these words she happened to glance at King Éomer's way and saw him looking at her. Corners of his mouth were lifted in a faint smile, but in his eyes there was something thoughtful.

Éowyn was smiling and she looked relieved.

"In that case, I think we'll be just fine", she said warmly. She then threw a glance at her brother before looking back at Lothíriel again, "Éomer has a much better grasp on Sindarin, to tell you the truth. I guess he has head for languages unlike I do. I remember how he and Théodred used to sometimes talk in Sindarin, and I was so angry for them leaving me out!"

Her brother's smile became crooked.

"As a child he had learnt to speak it almost fluently and wanted to keep it up, which is no easy thing when there almost no Sindarin speakers in Rohan. I wasn't half bad, so that made me his preferred companion for practice. I suppose the childish part of me was even smug to have a secret language Éowyn couldn't keep up with sufficiently. But it also made me feel like Théodred regarded me something special", he said for his part. Lothíriel noted his expression conveyed more of a bittersweet emotion than pain and grief of last night. It almost distracted her from another surprising thing: a fierce warrior king from wild North having such command over the tongue that was now preserved mostly in the old Númenórean families and treated by some as proof of a higher lineage.

"Well, I imagine that should give you an edge over certain noblemen of Gondor, Sire. I can honestly tell you that there are some who would be very surprised and even mildly insulted to know you can understand them perfectly even when they are trying to be exclusive", Lothíriel commented in wry humour, which made both siblings laugh. Éowyn's laughter was a bright silvery sound, but her brother let out a low, rumbling chuckle. For whatever reason, Lothíriel could feel a shiver run down her spine.

"I will remember that, my lady. An element of surprise is always advantage when you go to battle", said King Éomer. Now he was genuinely smiling and the impact was no less than last night.

"So you think politics and court interactions are akin to battlefield, my lord?" Lothíriel asked and raised an eyebrow. Well, maybe she shouldn't be surprised. War had obviously shaped this man in very profound ways, so it was not wonder it had also impacted his view of the world.

"It has felt like that sometimes, yes", he replied and the smile on his face faded.

"Diplomacy is not my brother's strongest suit", Éowyn stated mildly, as though to soften the suddenly serious mood. She cast a smile at Lothíriel, "Maybe you could teach him more about that, my friend. Make a business out of educating the House of Eorl."

King Éomer grunted, either because he thought Éowyn was over-sharing or because his sister presumed he needed to be lectured in diplomacy by a sheltered young woman. But Lothíriel let out a light laugh.

"You are looking at the wrong member of the House of Dol Amroth. Elphir is the diplomat", she said and shook her head. "But still, Sire, you're not entirely wrong. My father sometimes called politics a battle of wits. I'm nost sure how much battling he has had to do in that regard though, seeing our House has always had a high degree of power in Gondor thanks to few very advantageous marriages along the way and ruling over some of the most prosperous lands of the realm. Some even call us the Happy House of Dol Amroth... obviously, they've never met corsairs."

"But clearly they have met Amrothos", King Éomer quipped and leant back in his chair.

At first Lothíriel was too surprised to react. The gruff, sharp-eyed King of Rohan was cracking jokes with her! It was the last thing she had expected of this morning. But even so, she couldn't deny she was highly entertained by his remark, and once the first wave of surprise had washed over her, she began to laugh.

"Indeed", she said and smiled brightly at the King. "That would quite explain it."

The conversations remained light for the rest of the meal, and it was not long before she and Éowyn rose and headed for the Queen's solar again. But to herself Lothíriel thought about King Éomer and how much there was hidden behind that stern face.

* * *

The two women spent most of the morning working on Éowyn's Sindarin. The White Lady did struggle a little bit with the Elven tongue, but not as much as her words had suggested. Her previous learning started to come back quickly, and by lunchtime they had covered some basic vocabulary, traditional greetings and introducing oneself.

Éowyn insisted on continuing over the lunch, asking her friend to name the foods and the dishes in the table, and trying to conjure some conversation with the help of morning's lessons. Lothíriel helped only where it was necessary. To herself, she thought how eager and determined Éowyn was to learn. She hoped Faramir would know to appreciate his bride's efforts to understand and adapt to his society.

But about halfway through lunch, Éowyn switched back to Westron again and gave her friend a studious look.

"I must say, Lothíriel", she began slowly, "I was a little surprised by how easily you conversed with my brother at breakfast. I had thought you felt wary of him."

"I used to, Éowyn", said Lothíriel at length. She tried to think of what to say. She wanted to be honest with Éowyn, and she _was_ his sister, but on the other hand she felt like she owed to King Éomer to keep his confidence. She cleared her throat, "I just happened to meet him last night when I was on my way to kitchen. We talked a little bit and I found there was no reason to feel uncomfortable near him."

Her friend looked pleased. With a smile, Éowyn commented, "Didn't I tell you so? I'm glad you changed your mind. There are a lot of people who assume many things about my brother. Sometimes they're right, but often they are wrong. And being a king, you don't get to have that many friends who know you as you are. That's become clear, at least."

"It sounds like a lonely way of living", Lothíriel said softly and considered her half-eaten meal.

"And it is, my friend. But I think he knew to expect that. A Marshal is not as alone as king, but it's still a position where you have to shoulder so much duty. And he was so young when he was appointed", Éowyn said gravely. She let out a sigh and shook her head.

They ate in silence for a while. Lothíriel didn't feel particularly hungry anymore as she thought of what it would be like to live without her father and brothers while being saddled with such a heavy responsibility. However, knowing how many in Rohan were tightening their belts, she couldn't bear to act like a spoiled brat who would not even finish her food.

Eventually she had to say something to break the silence.

"I suppose it's easy to assume a lot of things about people. Especially when you haven't been out in the world very much and met that many people from lands foreign to you", she said at length.

A faint smile appeared on Éowyn's face.

"That is true. Yet no matter where they come from, people are just... well, _people._ I have met so many during and after the Ring War, friends and strangers from distant lands, and I have come to think there are more things that unite us than set us apart. I believe that should be the starting point when we build our peace", she mused thoughtfully and finished her drink.

"That is a wise thing to say", said Lothíriel and looked at her friend with a smile.

"Well", Éowyn said and shrugged, "I have chosen to have faith in people. I think that's the only way we can hope to mend the hurts of this world."

Lothíriel nodded. Her father had often told her something similar; she guessed it was also the reason he and Lord Denethor had never been very good friends.

"Isn't it hard, sometimes? Keep having faith in people?" she asked her friend. Not that _she_ didn't, but Éowyn had known so much more grief than her and got a much closer look at evil things men could do.

Again her friend flashed that faint smile.

"Of course it is. But that's why one must hold on to it, Lothíriel. It's easy to be hard and cold and doubtful. Yet just because something is easy doesn't make it right... or desirable. If we fall into apathy and give in to despair, then failure is all the more certain. We only have one life here, my friend, and I'm done tainting mine with a dark and grim perspective", she said firmly, like this was something she believed with her whole fierce soul. She let out a soft laugh, "Can you believe it is actually something those four brave hobbits taught to me? I think their way of life and view of the world are something the rest of us could learn from."

"That's something to think about", Lothíriel said after a moment of digesting her friend's words. She smiled, "But I don't think you are wrong."

* * *

Rest of the afternoon passed by quickly as they delved into the matter of the history of Gondor. Now _there_ was a subject one could spend a lifetime studying, as some masters did in Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth. She knew not a few of them had taken refuge in her father's city, though libraries and archives of Dol Amroth were not quite as extensive as those of the White City. However, for many years now atmosphere of Minas Tirith had not encouraged learning. Youths were rather taught to wield a sword than a quill and the ever-present shadow in the East had distilled doubt and fear in the hearts of so many, closing their minds from higher learning.

But Lothíriel had no doubt all that would change with the return of the king, and Minas Tirith would once again become a beacon of light and wisdom and knowledge.

Though they had taken short breaks and even went for a walk outside, they both still felt more or less drained when Éowyn suggested they finish for the day.

"That was really quite intense. Even more so than I expected", she commented as she stood up and stretched herself seemingly from head to toe.

Lothíriel did the same and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Faramir says that mind is a muscle. It wears down, too", she said, smiling wryly. "We can take it easier tomorrow. There's still plenty of time until spring."

Her friend smiled absentmindedly.

"We'll see", she merely said and brushed back her hair. With a slightly sharper look she looked at Lothíriel again, "I hope you don't mind that I asked Éomer to dine with us tonight. It just seemed right, especially after our conversation earlier today."

Lothíriel had seen Éowyn talking briefly with her brother when they had returned from their walk, but she hadn't thought at all what they'd be talking about.

In any case, how could she mind after last night? And even if they had not shared that strange little moment of companionship, one couldn't refuse to dine with a king. Furthermore, this really seemed like it was important to Éowyn.

"I don't mind", she answered and smiled a little. Then she glanced about and saw how they had spread their notes and parchments about the flat surfaces in the Queen's solar. She went on, "We'll have to clean up, though, if we mean to be able to eat here."

"Oh, don't worry about it. He insisted we eat in his rooms", Éowyn said nonchalantly.

"Very well", said Lothíriel and tried not to appear very nervous. Despite last night, and this morning's conversation, he was still a king and a famous warrior – not to mention unsettlingly comely when he bothered to smile.

After a half an hour's glorious soak in a bath, it was time to get dressed and go join the King and his sister. For a minute Lothíriel felt like maybe she should wear something a little more formal, but she dismissed that idea soon enough. Éowyn hadn't said anyone else would be joining them, and the two siblings were not ones to make a fuss, so it would just seem odd for Lothíriel to arrive in state. She chose a simple midnight blue gown with silver embroideries and wrapped her single braid in a circlet around her head.

She knew the general direction of the royal chambers, but Lothíriel still felt a little uneasy as she made her way there. Even with Éowyn's invite, it was like she was doing something forbidden.

At the doorway leading to the King's rooms there were two Riders standing guard. They were an intimidating sight in their full armour, but apparently they knew to expect her, as they let her pass without a word. Next was a small antechamber, and behind it a wide, comfortable parlour. It clearly had the most optional location and setting out of all the living quarters in the Hall. Hangings covered the walls and colourful rugs and pelts were thrown across the floor. Next to the door was an enormous, ornately carved chest that seemed to serve both as depository and a seat; she saw a pair of polished riding boots next to it. Near the fireplace stood two big armchairs with low stools nearby. One more door lead to another room, a bedchamber perhaps. A table with three chairs was already set in the centre and Éowyn was giving orders to a couple of servants. Her brother was not yet present.

Glancing around the place, Lothíriel quickly noticed there weren't many personal objects lying around. While the room certainly had that cozy and visually rich atmosphere that was prevalent in Meduseld, it also had somehow a little impersonal feel to it. Well, King Éomer was still new to his throne and probably these rooms as well, and he struck her more of an outdoor type anyway.

"Ah, there you are! Come in, come in. Now where's that errant brother of mine?" Éowyn chatted, sounding much more energetic than one would expect after a long day of studies. Where did these people get their drive?

As if on cue, the door opened again and the King of Rohan strode inside. He was in shirtsleeves and his hair was pulled messily back from his face. When he approached, Lothíriel saw that his eyes were weary.

"Am I late?" he asked and smiled at his sister. He also gave a nod to their guest, who stood a little awkwardly at the side.

"Yes! We have been waiting hours and hours for you!" Éowyn exclaimed dramatically and pushed him closer towards the table. She also beckoned Lothíriel to join them.

At first they ate in silence. The clinking of cutlery was the only sound for a while, and Lothíriel kept her eyes in her food. She wasn't sure why she should feel awkward after the fairly easy conversation of this morning, but perhaps it was just because this situation was so new and strange.

Éowyn was the one to break the silence.

"It's nice to be eating together. I remember us doing that years ago, when Éomer had not yet gone to Aldburg", she commented and smiled at her companions.

"I like it, too. Father insists we always eat together when he's at home", Lothíriel commented. She hid a smile when she thought of it. Family dinners in Dol Amroth could sometimes be a noisy business when they were together.

"Aye. There wasn't much of that when I joined my éored in Aldburg", said the King in low tones. "Most others were young men like myself, and older ones had families to return to every night. So we ate in the hall. There was lots of bad jokes and immature talk, and I can assure you _this_ is highly preferable."

Éowyn nodded emphatically.

"I very much agree. We should do this more often", she said and looked like the idea pleased her greatly.

"It's not the worst idea", said her brother. His voice was both a little gruff and approving; only he could manage such mixture. Still, his expression became gentle when he asked, "How were your lessons?"

"It was quite fascinating, brother. I think you would have enjoyed it too. Lothíriel was telling me about the founding of Gondor today. Of course I've always known it took place over three thousand years ago, but I never really thought about it – the sheer length of years that is between this moment and when Elendil and his sons set foot in Middle-earth. It makes our way of life here in Rohan seem so small and modest", Éowyn commented and poured all three of them more to drink.

"You have to remember, though", Lothíriel was quick to add, "Their people had sent thousands of years in the peace and prosperity of Elenna. Climate was mild and gentle there and resources were plentiful, at least until their greed and ambition grew too much. They had no enemies at their borders. And they had contact and many wondrous gifts from the Blessed Realm. Meanwhile, ancestors of your people were surviving in much harsher conditions. I know there are some in Gondor who like to make comparisons between our peoples, but they tend to forget the advantages our predecessors had."

"See? You are always telling me how sheltered you are, and yet you know all these things and can speak so easily about matters I can hardly put into words!" Éowyn said, as though to finally finish a long, on-going argument. Her brother's eyes shifted between them, thoughtful and deep.

Lothíriel let out a small, awkward laugh.

"Well, I suppose there is some benefit to practically growing up in a library", she said and smiled at two siblings. Hurriedly she went on to shift the focus of conversation from herself, "But you told me you were taught as a children, no?"

"We were", King Éomer answered, "Uncle went as far as bringing a teacher from Gondor for us. He had been vigorously educated as a child and wanted us to have the same upbringing. But I admit half of my mind was always out in the training fields. I was more eager to learn to fight. Now as a king, I sometimes wish I had paid closer attention in the school room."

He let out a sigh and shook his head. Éowyn regarded him with serious eyes.

"Perhaps your children and mine will have better chances in that", she stated softly. Then she looked at Lothíriel again, "I wouldn't say either of us were reluctant to learn. Our mother had taught us to read and to write and those came to us easily. But it all was just so much at the time. Uncle thought that having something to do would help us recover. He meant well, I know that. But much of our first year in Edoras is blank for me."

"I wonder if that's a blessing or not", said her brother, directing at least half of his words at Éowyn. "I remember it all too well, and it's not any better than having no memory at all."

"Even so, I do envy you", Éowyn stated. "I don't recall as much of our childhood in Aldburg as I would like to."

"I remember us being happy", King Éomer said and his voice grew quiet. His forehead creased with a frown when he continued, "but for a long time, those memories only made me bitter. I was so angry with them both for leaving us. Yet it didn't get better, no matter how many orcs I killed. Eventually I just... ran out of anger, I suppose. And then it seemed like duty was the only thing I had left. So it became my purpose, and I forgot about everything else that mattered."

With that last sentence he directed his eyes at his sister. The meaning of his words was plain to see on his features, and Lothiriel now wondered if his guilt went much deeper than she had first guessed.

"Brother, we have talked about this before", Éowyn said. Her voice was gentle at first, but it grew stronger soon enough. "We both made mistakes. I should have confided in you more, asked for your help. I should have taken a more active role by Uncle's side, instead of just pitying myself and wringing my hands. If I had acted when there was still time, then maybe Wormtongue would have not got such power in the court… and Théodred would still live."

Her face was dark and fierce, but the expression was smoothed away soon enough. She waved her hand.

"But we can't wallow in the past and beat ourselves over our mistakes. We can just try to learn from it and make sure we don't let it happen again", she said firmly.

She looked now at Lothíriel and offered an apologetic smile.

"Please forgive us. This was not the table conversation I meant to have tonight", she said with a wry smile.

"It's all right. You are my friend and I don't consider myself inconvenienced to have you open up to me about things that weigh on you", Lothíriel said. She wasn't sure how much of her words were meant for both siblings, though she surely did notice that the King was regarding her with keen eyes.

Their talks became lighter after that, even going as far as invoking a few laughs from all three of them. Lothíriel decided she rather liked King Éomer's low, rumbling laughter.

When they had finished, servants came to clear the table. Éowyn served them some spicy tea as they took seat by the fireplace, where flames were now merrily dancing. Autumn nights were getting more and more chilly in Rohan. It was cozy, sitting there and drinking tea, as the two siblings shared some amusing tales from happier days. Éowyn's face was bright with smiles and dear memories, and even her normally serious brother looked to be at ease. There was a warm glimmer in his eyes that made his glance surprisingly soft.

It was already getting late when the two women finally rose up and bid good night to the King. Lothíriel was sure she just imagined it, but for a brief moment it almost looked like he was reluctant to see them go. But then Éowyn remarked something and the thought dropped from her mind.

In the corridor, Éowyn spoke to her in soft voice.

"Thank you for joining us, Lothíriel. I feel like this was maybe even more important to my brother than I had guessed… he rarely opens up like that, even to me. Poor man still thinks he has to carry the world on his back... but he must really appreciate you, to speak of these things in your presence", she said quietly, eyes lowered as they slowly made way to their own rooms. She looked up and gazed at Lothíriel. The younger woman thought there was something sad in her friend's eyes.

"But in any case, I must ask for your discretion. Even if he chose to speak to us about it, I doubt he'd appreciate this conversation being known to others", she added in a low, solemn voice.

"Naturally. You needn't worry, Éowyn. I would never betray your trust – nor his, for that matter", Lothíriel said seriously. Something told her it was not a common occurrence to have these two last of the House of Eorl confiding in you. In some very strange way, whether it was due to her own merit or not, they trusted her. A young and silly girl could easily let that get into her head.

But Lothíriel wasn't going to be silly. She had a task here that was perhaps even more important than she had realised before now.

Her friend smiled.

"Thank you. For everything. For helping us and… for tonight. I think my brother and I both needed it", she said warmly and reached her arms to Lothíriel to give her a hug.

"Don't mention it", she said and returned Éowyn's hug. "I'm here for you."

 _Both of you – if need be._

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here is a new chapter for the new week! I hope you liked it. :)

I imagine both Lothíriel and Éomer are wondering and having a lot of questions about one another at the moment, but perhaps they'll learn to know each other little by little. I don't think this is a bad start for them, though!

Just for the record, when Éowyn says she should have taken a more active role, and that she was busy pitying herself, I don't mean to suggest I think that's what she did in Lord of the Rings. Obviously, she was battling depression and that's no laughing matter. But I do think she has a hard side to her, even if she has by now learnt to soften it a little bit. But she's still not soft to _herself._ Like Éomer, she too feels guilt over the events of the war. They both tend to forget that things were not under their control, and thus they blame themselves.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **QueenLiVII -** It's been fun writing their friendship! And I'm glad you liked that little bit of interaction between Lothíriel and Éomer. :)

 **EStrunk -** Yes, he has a lot to deal with right now, and Lothíriel is just starting to realise that.

I imagine that a culture where horses are so important might surprise you sometimes!

 **Bell -** Indeed. And sometimes you just need to get it out, no matter who is listening. But we'll see how this will impact their relationship!

 **Tibblets -** It can be very interesting, yes!

 **Nerdanel -** Yes, poor man was having bit of a bad day! But thankfully Lothíriel is so empathic, she quickly sees where he's coming from.

Well, she is the daughter of a mighty lord, and seeing Éomer has not declared any intentions towards her, I imagine some local lords are going to try their luck! I think Lothíriel would later on feel pretty amused about it, too.

 **poser16 -** It's developing, slowly and surely!

Also thank you! I hope you'll continue to enjoy the story!

 **Hobbitpony1 -** I imagine there are a few such divas also in the royal stables of Meduseld! :D I'm glad you liked their conversation!

 **Cricket22 -** Hopefully, I can keep you on the hook, then! :D

It's fun to write about _mearas_ and their presence in Rohan's culture. Seeing the lifestyle of Rohirrim is so centered around them, I think horses like _mearas_ would be deeply revered among them.

 **malfoy lea -** Believe me, I'm working as fast as I can! But I am happy to provide a little bit of escapism, and I hope you will contnue to enjoy this story!

 **Golden Haired Ravenclaw -** Thank you! :)

 **Chloe -** Yes, he is indeed such a loyal man who feels everything deeply, including love. That is also why his guilt and grief are so raw. But sometimes I feel like Éomer doesn't get enough credit for how good and decent he is!

 **Jo -** I imagine they are still eyeing her, even if she turned down the first proposal! We'll see how it goes with _mearas._ :)

 **Anon -** Thank you very much! I am glad to hear it works so well!

 **Guest -** And here you go!

 **Jeraly -** Thanks! :)

 **sai19 -** Well, this being a hobby of mine, the muse rarely sleeps very long! But I know what you mean - it's hard to imagine growing tired of this world and these characters!

 **Shetan20 -** I'm glad you liked it! :)

 **TwilightCakes -** Thank you!

 **Vair -** I hope you continue to enjoy this tale! :)


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

When Lothíriel came to the great hall next morning and approached the King's table, she saw right away that Éowyn was not yet there. However, the King himself held the centre seat, and almost as soon as Lothíriel's eyes had stopped on him, his own eyes locked with hers. She smiled a little awkwardly. Up until now, Éowyn had acted as something of a mediator, unaware or just ignoring it whenever her friend and her brother grew uneasy.

Lothíriel told herself she was being ridiculous and cowardly. Last night had been so pleasant and she was stupid to still feel this wariness. She wasn't generally scared of men, and yet this horselord kept her on her toes even after various shows of how perfectly friendly he could be.

She got herself moving and once she was up on the dais, she bid him good morning. He returned the greeting and, like yesterday, got up to pull back the chair for her. She accepted the gesture with less surprise than the last time.

There were a couple minutes of weird, awkward silence as they both dug into their meals. Lothíriel wondered if she would ever feel completely natural with him.

She could feel his eyes on her and before long he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"I heard something the other day", King Éomer said quietly. "I was wondering if... if it was a fancy tale or just the truth. You know how stories grow and change when they travel."

"What did you hear, Sire?" Lothíriel asked and tried not to sound like she was very taken aback.

He was silent for a moment before he talked again.

"Someone said you had seen something on your way here, my lady. A very special herd", he uttered in a low voice. She tried to read his face, but could not really say what his expression was.

"Yes, Sire. I did see some unusual horses. I believe they are called _mearas_ in your land. So I was told, at any rate", she answered warily and thought of the conversation between her and Éowyn. Her friend had said people would wonder, so perhaps she shouldn't be surprised to have this question asked also by him.

"I wonder..." he said, but his voice died down quickly. He sat there on his seat, eyes lowered, looking like his thoughts were a thousand leagues away.

"What do you wonder, Sire?" Lothíriel dared to ask. Something told her that this was a tender topic in more than just one regard.

Abruptly he looked up and fixed his eyes on her. In them she saw a strange, burning look. Was it... hope?

"I saw them too, my lady", he said bluntly – louder than until now. Still he stared at her in that strange way, and when she didn't say anything, he continued to speak, "The night after I visited Théodred's grave, I saw them on the plains. No one else did, and I said nothing of it at the time. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I was still thinking of Théodred and seeing _mearas_ right then meant that he really is gone."

Now her voice had utterly failed her. He had seen _mearas_ , too! What could it mean? What would it mean? Éowyn had implied there already were whispers about _mearas_ abandoning the new king. But obivously they had not. He was the King of Rohan, just as his uncle had been.

Still, it left another question open. How did she fit in all of this?

"Sire..." she was beginning to talk, but that was the precise moment when Éowyn arrived. She took her seat and sat down with a huff.

"Everything fine, sister?" asked the King. Nothing about his tone betrayed the odd little conversation they had just had.

"All's well. Just a minor catastrophe in the kitchens, but it's fine now", Éowyn said and reached for a fresh roll of bread. She glanced between her two companions and smiled, "How are you on this fine morning?"

Lothíriel said she was very well, and the King uttered something similar.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Éowyn asked her brother suddenly, Her voice had become low and serious.

"In fact I did. Slept better than in ages", he said, a little gruff perhaps but also with certain notes that revealed he was pleased.

Éowyn seemed to be, too. She reached to pat his shoulder and whispered something to him; Lothíriel heard enough to recognise the flowing sound of Rohirric. She wondered if he had even told his sister about seeing _mearas._

"I had a good time last night. We should eat together more often", she said in Westron again. Her smile, which she flashed first at her brother and then to their guest, was hopeful.

"I would like that", Lothíriel said and smiled, too.

"As would I", Éowyn's brother agreed with an empathic nod. A faint smile had appeared on his bearded face, but like Lothíriel had noticed before, it was much enhanced by the warm glimmer in his dark eyes.

"Excellent. Someone should make sure you don't spend all your evenings holed up in that cave you call your study", Éowyn said briskly and spooned some honey in her porridge. King Éomer made a gruff sound at the back of his throat, but Lothíriel thought she saw some amusement in his eyes.

Conversation between them was light and pleasant during breakfast, though Lothíriel did not forget what she had talked about with the King before Éowyn had joined them. _Mearas_ had come to him, too... and best she could figure, it had happened very close to the time she had seen them.

That _mearas_ could cover such distances in a short time was no news to her: she had heard enough stories about the speed of Shadowfax. But that they _would_ was more astonishing. However, she was not certain even in Rohan there was anybody who could tell her what this meant.

On the other hand, many strange things had happened over the course of past couple years. Some of them could not be explained, though it seemed they were a good thing. Perhaps, then, this was simply one of those unusual events that meant there was a reason to hope.

She was still thinking of this when they were making way for the Queen's Solar. Éowyn noticed her silence soon enough.

"Is everything all right?" she asked and touched Lothíriel's forearm. The younger of the two women shook herself and gave her friend a lopsided smile.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking. Don't worry about it", she said in what she hoped was a cheerful tone. Then, before Éowyn could worry if something was wrong she cleared her throat and asked, "Are you ready for today's lessons?"

There was a thoughtful look in Éowyn's eyes, but she did not press the matter.

"I am."

* * *

So passed the second week of Lothíriel's stay in Edoras. Days went by quickly, be it in lessons or exploring the capital, or taking riding trips to the plains. Éowyn advanced quickly, which was no wonder with her hunger for knowledge.

When Éowyn had tasks to run in Meduseld, Lothíriel usually spent time with Hild and her sister-in-law, Lady Scýne. They accompanied her for walks in the capital and sometimes joined when the King's sister and her friend went riding. They were wonderful company, treating her as though she was someone they had known for years, and not like a strange, slightly suspicious foreigner. Some of her free moments she also spent writing letters for her family, describing the daily life of Edoras and people she was meeting there.

Now that he was home, Lothíriel also saw King Éomer each day. He was always present for the breakfast and nearly every night, they had dinner in the royal chambers. Éowyn's brother didn't seem to grow tired of their company; rather, Lothíriel thought his eyes lit up every time he entered the room and saw the two women waiting for him. He remained more quiet and reserved than Éowyn, but he was always polite and friendly. And after dinner when they were seated by the fire, his conversation became more relaxed, even joining his company in jest.

She did not see him alone again, though; at least Éowyn was always present, and sometimes there were others as well. Although Lothíriel didn't think it was necessary to keep Éowyn in the dark about her and the King's conversation concerning _mearas_ , the matter was not spoken of again. But she didn't think he had forgotten about it – or so she felt at times when their eyes met and she saw a thoughtful look in his.

A couple more marriage proposals were made to her that same week, as Éowyn had predicted. One was from another elderly lord hoping to secure a match between his son and her, and another by a very young man who had recently taken up his ancestral seat in Westfold when his father had died in the War of the Ring. The former Lothíriel rejected with firm flourish, but the latter she gave a gentler refusal. She hoped the word would go around soon enough that she was not accepting any proposals.

All in all, Lothíriel was really beginning to feel settled and comfortable in Edoras, and seeing she had still months of the visit ahead of her, she probably should have known it would be inevitable she'd run into the Lord of the Mark alone at some point.

* * *

On a chilly morning of late September, Lothíriel ventured out for a walk in the brisk sunlight. Éowyn was busy with some household errands, so it left her idle until afternoon. Sometimes she would accompany her friend to her various duties, but occasionally she would spend time with Hild and Lady Scýne or go out alone.

This was such morning. With all the noise and bustle of the royal household, it felt good to just be with one's thoughts sometimes. She wondered if King Éomer ever felt like that, too.

Once Lothíriel had made her usual walk, she decided to pay a visit to her mare. Though she had no doubt the stable masters of Meduseld were giving her horse the best care, she still liked to go and see the animal from time to time.

The royal stables were very tidy and well-lit. Not a single straw of hay seemed to be out of order. Stable hands moved with certain determination and spoke in low, calm tones, obviously to keep from spooking the high-spirited horses of the King and his Riders. Rarely had Lothíriel seen steeds so magnificent. They were of great stature and clean, long limbs, built for speed and endurance. Though she didn't think there were any pure _mearas_ among them, she could still see all of these horses had some ancestors among that wild herd. Her own mare almost grew smaller in comparison, though not less dear.

The mare whinnied eagerly when she came and was soon searching Lothíriel's hands and pockets with tender lips, hoping for a treat from her mistress. But however nice it would have been to sneak something for her little mare, Lothíriel had reminded herself that while in Meduseld people didn't need to go hungry, it didn't mean that all of Rohan was so well off right now. She didn't want to be the silly southerner lavishing her horse with treats at the expense of her host.

She spent a while muttering softly in Sindarin to her mare, scratching the animal's ears and seeking her mane for tangles – of which she found none. The little steed looked to be prospering under the expert care of Rohirric stable masters.

But when she was leaving the stall, something abruptly caught her attention. Someone was singing softly nearby... one of the popular tunes captain Folca's men had sung while escorting her to Edoras. She knew he served in the East-Mark under Marshal Elfhelm's command, but had some errand brought him here? Surely she ought to go greet him, if he had travelled to the capital. She had no idea that the good captain had such a wonderful singing voice...

It was not the friendly Rider she found several stalls away, but the King of Rohan himself.

As it happened, at the moment he made such an image that it probably only made sense in Rohan. At least, Lothíriel couldn't picture King Elessar in shirtsleeves, caring for his horse.

The man did not notice her, but his horse, a big grey stallion, certainly did. He tossed his great head and his ears prickled to her direction, like he was assessing her as a potential threat. Then he snorted loudly, finally interrupting his master's soft singing.

As though on cue, King Éomer looked around sharply and saw her. She marvelled at the fierce look on his features and knew it signified such attunement between man and beast as could only be reached by long and vigorous training. However, he was quick to realise his horse had not warned him about an actual threat, and so his expression softened.

"My lady. Forgive me, I did not notice you there", he said and nodded at her, one hand still on his stallion's back and the other returning from his side. He had been grasping at his sword.

"No, it is I who must apologise. I should have announced myself, Sire. But I heard you singing and thought it was somebody else... I didn't mean to disturb you", she said and curtsied.

"It's all right. I was about to finish, anyway", he said and stepped out of the stall. He gave an absent-minded pat to his stallion and then grabbed his coat, which had been hanging nearby. The horse, Firefoot he was called as she remembered from Éowyn's stories, snorted again; this time the sound was quieter, like he was mildly exasperated with his master.

But then she looked at the King again and saw him giving her a wry half-grin. The man was in a good mood and it suited him dangerously well.

"Are you headed to the Hall? If so, let me accompany you, my lady", he offered as he put on his coat again.

"Of course, Sire", said Lothíriel and felt a shiver run down her spine. She had not been alone in his presence since that strange conversation. And it seemed like he knew exactly what she was thinking of, as he suddenly began to speak.

"My lady, I hope it did not disturb you when we last talked", King Éomer said softly as he followed her out to the courtyard.

"Why would you think so, Sire?" she asked warily and lowered her eyes. Sometimes it was so difficult to bear his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at you, so direct and clear, that it made her feel like she might reveal to him much more than she intended.

"You have been quiet as of late, my lady. I have seen the thoughtful looks you cast my way sometimes. Please, don't let it trouble you. I wouldn't have brought the matter up if I had known you would not feel good about it", he said, low and solemn.

"No, no, it's not that, Sire", Lothíriel hurriedly said and almost reached for his hand to some kind of gesture of consolation. But she kept her hand to herself and went on, "Of course it has made me wonder. Éowyn explained to me how your people regard _mearas._.. and how their appearances are sometimes regarded as signs. I couldn't understand why they'd show themselves to me, Sire, and the mystery only grew when you said you had seen them, too."

"Ah", he said quietly. Then he smiled wryly. "I see. Éowyn is right – our people can be superstitious, especially about _mearas_. And signs can be helpful, they can tell you whether you're going the right way or not. But you must be careful with them, lest you lose your own sight and begin to see signs even when there are none. It's what Uncle once told me. Your life and your choices are ultimately your own."

Suddenly he stopped and laid his hand on her shoulder. Its weight froze her where she stood.

"Maybe it's not a mystery at all that you saw them, my lady. If you ask me, they showed themselves because it's a good thing for you to be here", King Éomer said, smiling slightly.

Lothíriel smiled as well. Something in her breast grew lighter.

"Thank you for saying that, Sire", she said, hardly noticing they had now reached the stairs leading up to the Hall.

He merely smiled as an answer, and as they made their way together up the stairs, Lothíriel thought to herself this could be the start of a rare friendship.

* * *

After an intense morning of lessons, Éowyn suggested they go out for a ride. Lothíriel was quick to agree, as the weather outside was so lovely, it'd be a pity to waste the day holed up in the Queen's solar. So Éowyn gave orders to prepare their horses, and both women went off to change into their riding attires.

Sun was shining from a cloudless sky that day and even wind had somewhat settled. It was the warmest day in a couple of weeks, and as they left behind the capital and the reverent silence of mounds of past kings, Lothíriel felt immensely glad Éowyn had suggested this.

They galloped for a while, letting their horses set the pace – or, mostly Lothíriel's mare did, as Éowyn's own Windfola would surely have left them behind. It was nice either way.

Soon they reached the river Snowbourne and followed it up the stream, until they began to slow down and halted. While the guards who had come along busied themselves with watering the horses, Lothíriel and Éowyn took a stroll on the riverbank. Dressed in her sky blue riding gown, Lothíriel quickly noticed the impracticality of her dress for this terrain. She gathered her hems in one hand to make the going little easier. Éowyn, on the other hand, was dressed in tunic and breeches, like many Rohirric women did. She moved effortlessly and soon had Lothíriel feeling a little envious.

Éowyn raised her face to the sun and breathed deeply in contentment. It was good to see her looking so happy; Lothíriel had not forgotten Éowyn's listless expression back in the Houses of Healing.

The day was a fair one indeed. Sunlight bathed the walls of mountains in a warm glow and graced the land with one last sweet memory of summer. The city of Edoras was enveloped in the light as well and Meduseld glittered like a beacon of gold. The stream of Snowbourne bubbled hastily away towards the river Entwash, which then would go and meet Anduin the great. In the distance, Lothíriel could see a small herd of horses grazing and moving slowly eastward. It was such a picture of peace and prosperity, she couldn't help but smile.

"Are you ever afraid of moving to Gondor?" she asked after they had walked a while in silence.

"Not afraid, really", Éowyn answered thoughtfully. "To tell you the truth, there aren't many things that scare me now. I suppose that's the good thing about walking through fire. But of course I do wonder what it will be like, living in a land I've only visited once. More than anything, I'm excited."

A smile lingered on her face, but suddenly it darkened and turned into a frown.

"What is it?" Lothíriel asked in concern.

"I was just thinking... if there's one dent in my happiness, it's that my mother isn't here. I have been thinking of her lately. Perhaps that is natural when one is about to marry. I wish I could talk to her", Éowyn said and let out a deep sigh.

"What was she like?" asked the younger of two women. She kept her voice as gentle as possible.

"She was a kind, sweet woman... much softer and calmer than Father. Sometimes it's hard to remember her the way she was before he died. I don't know why, but the thing I remember most about her are her hands. She had such a gentle touch whenever she held me. And she was one of the best singers of her time, or so it is said. She was always making up songs of her own for me and my brother", Éowyn replied slowly, gazing ahead with a bittersweet look on her face. Again she sighed before she continued, "My mother was fragile, though I did not understand it then. She was not meant for such times... I suppose I too was angry with her for a long time. Now, however, I have made my peace. She had her own kind of wisdom and she was my mother, after all. I only wish she could be there on my wedding day."

"I'm sure she'd be very proud of you", Lothíriel said softly. "It can be difficult, growing up in the middle of so many men. But I think you have done very well."

Éowyn let out a low, throaty laugh.

"I've done my best. Still, you are right. I have no female relatives to speak of, and Éomer and Uncle and Théodred were always busy with their duties. It was lonely sometimes... no wonder I ended up on the Pelennor fields. I know it's not particularly nice of me, but I used to be so scared of ending up like my mother", she said and a faint grim tone appeared in her voice. But then her expression softened again and she looked straight at her friend, "It's been so good having you here. Having an actual friend. I never did before, not really."

"Well, it's my pleasure to be here", Lothíriel said and smiled slightly. She knew Éowyn was once again telling her some very private things.

Her friend's face became quite fierce suddenly.

"But do you understand what it means to me? You know how I was when they first took me to the Houses of Healing. I'm not proud of it, Lothíriel, but I had a lot of contempt for myself and other women. I was cold and hard. I didn't comprehend the power there is in kindness and friendship. It is easy to become harsh and cynical in this world, but true strength is seeing the darkness and still being soft and gentle at heart. It's not only Faramir who taught me that – you have had just as significant part in it", Éowyn spoke, and at times her voice became more and more heated. Bright light shone in her eyes as she reached to squeeze Lothíriel's shoulder.

Warmth rushed up Lothíriel's neck. She didn't know how to respond to such words of praise, especially when it was coming from the Slayer of the Witch-king herself.

"It humbles me that your opinion is so high. I hope that I may be worthy of it always", she said, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

"I have no doubt of it", said Éowyn firmly as she linked her arm with Lothíriel's own. Then with a bright smile, she suggested, "Shall we turn back? The horses should be watered now, and at this rate we'll be hiking all the way to Entwash."

"That would be inconvenient, wouldn't it?" Lothíriel said and smiled again. Her shoulders relaxed and she didn't feel so self-conscious anymore.

Her friend let out a soft laugh and side by side, they headed again to where their escorts were waiting with the horses.

* * *

When Lothíriel and Éowyn returned to Meduseld, they immediately saw that the atmosphere had shifted drastically since they had ridden out. Now the courtyard was teeming with horses and green-cloaked Riders of the King's Guard. Swiftly they went, checking and readying their steeds and saddlebags and weapons. Such a vision could mean only one thing.

Lothíriel glanced at Éowyn and saw that her expression had tightened. But she probably felt her friend's eyes on her, for she looked at Lothíriel and offered a small smile.

"I'm sure it's nothing serious. You know how my brother is – he simply likes to get involved in things. Perhaps he's just travelling to deal with some matter of politics", Éowyn said, though she must know they were both thinking of same thing. King of Rohan and his Riders were some of the most efficient warriors in all the land, and at this time, many dangerous things were still prowling at borders.

Way was made to the White Lady when she came, even with all the business in the courtyard. Lothíriel followed suit, curious to learn what was afoot. They climbed up the stairs and entered the Hall, both of them walking quickly.

King Éomer met them in the great hall of Meduseld. He was on his way out, fully armoured and gazing ahead with determination. But when he saw his sister and their guest, a faint smile appeared on his stern features.

"Has something happened?" Éowyn asked bluntly, reaching for the wrist of her brother.

"There was word from Treebeard. He and his Shepherds have seen some odd groups of orcs getting more active recently. He thinks they are planning to raid the land before winter comes. I am riding to meet Erkenbrand so that we may investigate this matter – and finish it, if luck be with us. Westfold can't take any more attacks as it is", he replied gravely.

Éowyn sighed unhappily, though she didn't object. The King's face softened and he smiled again.

"Don't worry, sister. I promise I will be back before Harvest Feast. I wouldn't miss it for the world", he promised her.

"You must be careful, brother", Éowyn said forcibly and reached to hug him tightly. Lothíriel felt a little awkward. She wanted to say something as well, but would it seem like intruding?

"Am I not always?" he said and smiled wryly. His words made his sister snort.

"I could say a thing or two, but because I love you, I won't", Éowyn retorted. Both of them laughed.

The two siblings made for the doors of the great hall. Lothíriel remained close, meaning to say her own farewells too.

In the courtyard, things were even busier, if possible. The King's grey stallion was being lead outside and the animal tossed his head anxiously. Nearby stood the royal standard bearer with the emblem of the House of Eorl: a great white horse galloping free on a green field.

Once outside, King Éomer turned to look at his sister and for a moment they spoke in quiet Rohirric. She then reached to hug him again and he returned the gesture with more warmth than one might expect from one such as him.

Abruptly he turned to Lothíriel's direction. His eyes were keen and piercing, as though he was to say something of great import to her. For whatever reason, heat rushed up her neck.

"Safe travels, Sire. Béma with you", she said in her halting Rohirric and curtsied, lowering her eyes in something that felt a bit like embarrassment, but was not just it. Was it too forward of her to speak in their tongue and wish him well as another Eorling would?

"And with you, my lady", he answered softly, but almost with something akin to expectation in his tone. And as she was looking down, she saw his hand extended towards her, like he had meant to touch her. But even as she stared at his glowed fingers, he withdrew the limb again. Lothíriel looked up, only to see him already turned away.

Silently, her heart beating at an uneven pace, Lothíriel watched him go.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here is an update for Friday! I wish you all a fine weekend. :)

Éomer still remains a bit of a mystery to Lothíriel, but there's definitely fascination growing. I hope you liked their interactions in this chapter!

Thank you for reading and reviewing! If you got time, let me know what you think!

* * *

 **Anon -** I imagine Éowyn will be very much a big part of things! :) She probably does feel guilt about her choice, and maybe they have already talked about that with one another. But she might feel uncertain about talking of it to Lothíriel, who is Faramir's cousin. The last thing Éowyn would want is them thinking she's regretting anything.

Anyway, I'm glad to hear that the story is giving so much food for imagination!

 **EStrunk -** Happy to hear it! :) But yes, Éowyn has found a way to move on, and perhaps in a sense that her brother has not yet discovered himself. They both have their issues to work through, but they do their best.

 **Guest -** Thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

 **A -** Here goes!

 **notusingthisagain -** I hope you liked this chapter! :)

 **QueenLiVII -** Glad to hear it! I can't say much about whether Éowyn is pushing them together, but let's just agree she's not blind nor stupid! ;) Anyway, it's good to know my storytelling is managing to bring it all to life so well!

 **Nerdanel -** Thank you! :)

 **Jo -** Thanks a lot! :)

 **Boramir -** Happy to hear you like it! :)

 **Menelwen -** Glad that you are enjoying it! Éomer/Lothíriel stories are my favourites as well. But I can imagine it's difficult to find stories about them in Spanish, because until recently this seemed like such a small ship even in English language. I don't speak English as my native tongue, and I know there are others like me reading my stories, so I try not to get too complicated with my language. You are right, though - it is a fun way to learn more English!

Best of regards to Chile as well! :)

 **ckara -** Thank you! I hope you will continue to enjoy this story!

 **Mysterious Jedi -** Thanks! We'll see how things go for them!


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Harvest Feast is one of our time-honoured traditions", explained Lady Scýne the following morning, when Lothíriel had asked her and Hild to join her for a trip to the markets. They were strolling down the road that lead to the Golden Hall, and the two ladies were now explaining her what this particular event meant in Rohan. The day was not quite as lovely as yesterday, there were clouds in the sky that could mean rain later today, and the wind was more fierce. Still, sun persistently peeked from behind the clouds and occasionally shined in her full glory.

"Some say it goes back to the times of Éotheod, and even beyond", Hild put in eagerly.

"Yes, perhaps that is so. But in any case, it is held at the end of the autumn to celebrate and give thanks for the gifts of the land", Lady Scýne continued in a more solemn tone. A shadow passed across her face. "Not that so many gifts were received this year – in that regard, at least. Yet there is still much to be thankful for even now. I suppose all celebrations this year will recall the war that was so recently won."

"And there will be a great banquet in Meduseld, and nobles and commoners alike will be invited to join the King", Hild went on, hardly minding her sister-in-law's serious attitude. Lothíriel hid her smile. Éowyn had mentioned as much and she had also said that her uncle had invited different families every year so that as many as possible could enjoy the hospitality of the Golden Hall. Her brother was going to do the same, not only because he agreed with the sentiment, but also in the memory of their dearly beloved uncle.

It was a nice way to remember someone you had loved and lost, Lothíriel thought – rather celebrating the good they had done than grieve ceaselessly over the pain of their passing.

"No wonder Éowyn is so busy. It must be quite an effort to prepare it all", she commented now. From her father's household, she knew exactly the work and expenses that went to organising a feast. And it was not even a royal court, like Meduseld. Lothíriel had tagged along when it was not too much of a hindrance, learning about the workings of Meduseld. In so many ways it was like back in Dol Amroth, but it was also so different. There was a sense of controlled chaos to it, in a way, and always noise. But whenever Éowyn spoke, things began to happen. To herself, Lothíriel wondered if it was a difficult household to manage. Did these people expect their mistress – and their future queen – to stand equal to the King of Rohan?

But then she reminded herself it was hardly any concern of hers, and King Éomer was perfectly capable of choosing such a bride who could rise to all the challenges that came with being his queen. Wryly she thought that if he just smiled a little bit more, he could probably get any lady he wanted in the Western lands. The idea made her uneasy for a reason she couldn't discern, and so she was quick to dismiss the whole line of thought.

Thankfully, her friends were talking again, thus bringing her mind to other directions.

"Harvest Feast is also the time of remembering those loved ones who are gone. It's said that the veil between this world and the next is thinner than normal on the eve of the Feast. It's unwise to go out that night – unless you don't mind the dead, of course", Hild said, excited and a little frightened, like people often were when they spoke of something that was both fascinating and dangerous.

"Those are just stories, of course", said Lady Scýne, remaining the more level-headed one. "Still, many of our older folk will warn you from going near places where much blood was shed. And sites of tragic events are equally bad, as I understand."

"It's true, though! Éothain says Helm Hammerhand the King still haunts the vicinity of the Deep in West-Mark. People sometimes see him there during winter nights. Éothain always got a queer feeling when he goes there", Hild said vehemently.

"You shouldn't believe every ghost story your brother tells you, Hild", said her sister-in-law, gentle but firm. However, Hild's expression was stubborn and though she said nothing, it didn't seem like she was compelled to change her mind.

"Do you have ghosts in Dol Amroth, my lady?" she asked instead.

"Oh, we have our ghost ships, our drowned sailors, and weeping maids forever calling them home on the shores. I've never seen one, though. And the Elves say that the spirits of Men don't linger in the World, but move on to a place beyond", she replied softly. She thought of Boromir and how sad it would be to think that he was forever drifting on the banks of Anduin.

"Place beyond?" Lady Scýne asked in interest.

"Yes. My grandfather used to say that while our bodies are temporal, our spirits are free", said Lothíriel and felt embarrassed at the intent looks of her two companions.

She shook her head and smiled a little.

"In any case, it will be interesting to join the banquet. My brother Amrothos especially spoke much about how feasting is done in Rohan. Is it really so lively?" she asked and pulled her cloak closer. They were nearly to the merchants' district, which she recognised, but she wasn't certain where to find the exact shop they were going to visit. This district was a little more lavish, though there was no house to match the splendour of Meduseld. Even so, Lothíriel could see that there were Rohirrim whose only wealth was not their horse.

"Oh, it rather is. You will see! As I recall, Lord Amrothos knows how to drink heartily and sing merrily", Lady Scýne said and her eyes glittered in gentle amusement. "In that, he's not very different than most sons of Eorl."

"I look forward to it", said Lothíriel, casting and absent-minded look over the sun-bathed plains to the west. At the moment, only one particular Son of Eorl visited her thoughts. Was he staying safe, like he had promised?

"Ah, here we are. This is the shop I was talking about", said Lady Scýne and ushered them in.

While Éowyn was busy with the preparations and seeing to the running matters of the realm, Lothíriel had decided to start a project of her own in secret. Having witnessed a few fitting sessions for Éowyn's new wardrobe, she had a fairly good idea of her friend's measurements. Her first concern had been whether she should use linen from Rohan, or send for some in Dol Amroth. There was a shop in her home city where one could purchase some of the finest silks from Umbar, but on the other hand, she felt like using Rohirric linen was more appropriate. And seeing where her idea had sprung, Lothíriel deemed it was even more right to make this thing in memory of Rohan. Hoping to make a surprise of it, she had rather asked the advice of her two lady friends who now accompanied her, and they had known right away where to purchase what she needed. At least Lady Scýne and Hild agreed that Éowyn would greatly appreciate this gift.

With the help of her companions and the shopkeeper, she quickly found materials to her liking: it was very soft and fine linen, some of the best one could find in all of Rohan, as the shopkeeper boasted. And it did feel so good in Lothíriel's hands, she was glad to produce some silver coins from her little purse. Pleased with the transaction, the shopkeeper wrapped up the fabric and so the women stepped outside again to see to some other errands they had in mind.

* * *

The week passed quickly, although little of it was spent by lessons with Éowyn. The White Lady remained busy as the Feast neared and her brother was away; when Lothíriel came to join her for breakfast, she'd already have been up for a few hours, and apparently remained so even after her guest had retired. Lothíriel also had enough to occupy herself, even without their lessons. Some new books had finally arrived from Dol Amroth along with thick pile of letters from her family, she had her secret project, and Hild at least usually had time to spare. Lady Scýne was with them often, too.

But even with all her labours, Éowyn did not fail to share her dinner with Lothíriel, either in the Queen's solar or in the hall with the rest of the household. More often they chose the latter option, though, because in the former case it now felt like something was missing. They didn't speak of it, but Lothíriel was quite sure they both knew what that something was.

As the date of the Harvest Feast began to approach, Lothíriel could see a look of concern on her friend's face more often. Éowyn's eyes would be drawn towards the twin doors of the Golden Hall, or, if they were outside, she'd search the western horizon in vain. Lothíriel could very well understand what her friend was thinking. So she reached for the White Lady's wrist and touched it in a comforting gesture, and said, "I'm sure he'll be back before the feast."

Éowyn seemed to startle a little bit, but then she gave her a sheepish smile.

"I'm being silly, aren't I? It's just... this could be the last Harvest Feast we spend together, and I would dearly like him to be home for it. But this matter with orcs is more important. I'd rather he take his full time hunting them, than get hurt because he was trying to get back before the Feast", she said and shook her head gravely.

"He'll be all right, whether he's here or not", Lothíriel said softly, not knowing how else to ease the mind of her friend. Éowyn smiled wanly and said no more. If she ever noticed that Lothíriel too was taking occasional glances westward, she didn't mention it.

The Golden Hall was busier than ever. Servants were seemingly cleaning it from floor to roof, airing the old tapestries, polishing cutlery, and bringing in such masses of late autumn's flowers and garlands that it felt like one could build a garden right in the middle of the feasting hall. Barrels upon barrels of ale were handled in the courtyard as the chatelaine of the royal household barked commands. Kitchens had become a veritable no go area, and all around the royal holdings and the city one could see parties of several people, chatting excitably about the coming event. Reportedly, young ladies of the land were busy honing their battle plans, because like Hild said, is there ever a better time to give a chase to an unmarried king than when he's merry on ale and feasting? Wryly, Lothíriel wondered if it didn't matter at all if King Éomer would make it home before the feast; in both situations it looked like Éowyn might not have a chance of getting to spend time with him.

Two days before the Harvest Feast, it was starting to look like everything would be ready in time, and so Éowyn allowed herself a precious free hour with her Gondorian friend after lunch. Feeling a little drained after a some very busy days, she suggested they go and take a walk instead of trying to focus on lessons. So they fetched their cloaks and headed out to catch a bit of fresh air.

It was windy again and the sky was overcast. The western skies – Lothíriel checked the direction almost habitually now – were grey and thick. If the King's Company was heading back right now, they were probably doing it in downpour. She shuddered at the thought and pulled her cloak tighter about herself.

Éowyn's expression was faraway as they walked. For a moment Lothíriel thought whether she should say something, but eventually chose to remain quiet. Maybe every silence did not need filling, and companionship could be enjoyed even without words. Her friend would talk if she felt the need.

"Do you ever miss home?" Éowyn asked suddenly, focusing her eyes on Lothíriel once more.

"Sometimes, yes", Lothíriel replied. She could guess now what her friend was thinking.

"What do you do when you feel it?" Éowyn wanted to know.

"I read letters from my family, or maybe write one for them. I picture Dol Amroth in my mind's eye... though sometimes that can make me miss it even more. But I try not to dwell on it too much. If you do, then you can spend all your time missing something that's faraway, and lose sight of things you have close to you", said the younger of the two women, speaking slowly as she considered Éowyn's question.

"I was just thinking... I know I will miss Rohan, and my brother. Most like, my first months in Gondor are going to be both exquisite and terrifying. But I don't want Faramir to think that I regret anything", Éowyn said, and there was a faint crease on her brow.

"If I know my cousin at all, then I can certainly tell you that he'd never think such a thing. He's a man of deep understanding, Éowyn. He might comprehend your missing your old home better than you know", Lothíriel said and reached to pat her friend's arm in a gesture of consolation. She thought of how to put her next words for a moment, and then spoke, "Love is... it's not like you can divide it in parts, or measure it. That you love your brother and homeland doesn't make your love for Faramir any lesser. And that applies the other way around, too."

"Yes. That is quite true. And I know I already have so much, and it's greedy to want more, but sometimes I just wish I could have both worlds – and both families – close to me", Éowyn admitted softly. Some sadness appeared in her eyes and she added, "Or, that it would not have to hurt to give up the other."

"My father says we only understand how much something means to us when it's time to give it up... but I think it would be worse to feel nothing at all. Because then you'd know that your life up until that moment didn't really mean anything, even to yourself. Or, _especially_ to yourself, and if you can't appreciate the life you have been given, then who will?" Lothíriel mused quietly. Their conversation had been so intense, they were now some way down the main road. She shot a glance about herself with some surprise at how far they had already got. Around them, the everyday life of Edoras bustled.

But Éowyn regarded her solemnly.

"You are a wise young woman, aren't you?" she said, linking her arm with that of Lothíriel.

The younger of the two let out an embarrassed little laugh.

"I don't know about that. I am just... me", she said dismissively and looked down. It was hard to feel overly important about oneself when you were almost stepping into a pile of horse droppings.

"Well, if the war taught me anything, it is that the humblest of us may have the greatest of hearts", Éowyn stated firmly. Lothíriel did not know what to say, and in any case, her friend was already speaking again, "But come now! It looks like it'll be raining soon, and I should go and check everything is going smoothly in the kitchens."

The two women did not speak much on their way back. They walked moderately fast in order to get to Meduseld before rain began, which they thankfully managed. Lothíriel paid a visit to her chamber to change her walking boots and leave the cloak, but she headed back to the great hall to join Éowyn again.

Her friend was talking with the head steward of the King's household when Lothíriel joined her side, but she didn't really have time to get a hang of the topic when sudden commotion at the doorway caught her attention. Éowyn turned to look that way as well.

The twin doors of the Hall were pushed open, not with the usual reverence but urgently. Alarmed voices carried in before shapes appeared from the grey light of rainy day. Then came – or limped – a creature of three heads and six pairs of limbs, leaving a wet line of mud as it moved with some difficulty.

Éowyn gasped in the very moment that the picture began to make sense to Lothíriel. And when it did, she felt like all her focus narrowed to that scene before her, and other noises and shocked faces around them were removed miles away. Between Captain Éothain and another Rider Lothíriel did not know, King Éomer was looking so ill-tempered as no injured man ever had before. One of his arms was around Captain Éothain's shoulders and the other he held carefully to his chest, like it was hurt. The Rider to his other side was not so much supporting him but rather hovering close, like he was expecting the man to fall. The King's armour looked a bit like someone had tried their utmost to dismantle it. The fact that they had not succeeded was probably the reason he was still alive.

"Éomer!"

The cry that left Éowyn's lips almost sounded like that of a wounded animal. Then she flew to her brother, who was leaning heavily against the side of his second in command. Lothíriel approached them as well, though she didn't know how she could assist – what could she do when her hands were shaking and her heart beating so fast in her chest it felt bursting.

Éowyn looked like she first meant to grab her brother, but changed her mind at the last moment. She cupped his ashen face between her hands, judging at least that part of him did not seem to be hurting.

"What has happened? Are you going to be all right? You are burning up!" she demanded in shock.

"There was a battle, my lady; orcs took us unawares and their number was more than our scouts had implied", said the Rider with a bow of his head. He remained close to his king, hands ready to catch him at any moment.

"And this one first decided to lead a most foolhardy manoeuvre I've ever seen, and then to be an idiot and ride through rain, although he's got a few broken ribs and some nasty wounds. And he didn't think to mention having fever until he almost fell from the saddle!" said Captain Éothain in a dangerously low voice. Lothíriel swallowed hard and clenched her fists. Even Amrothos had never done anything so careless!

"Are you both mad?! You should not have let him travel like this!" Éowyn exclaimed. Her voice had risen a couple octaves and her expression was so fierce, one would assume what had happened to the Witch-king was really quite modest compared to what she would do now.

"Said manoeuvre won us the day, if I may say so", her brother spoke at last. His voice was rough and raspy, and impossibly stubborn. "And I promised to be back for the Harvest Feast. I wasn't going to let you down."

Éowyn let out a groan of utter frustration.

"You and your damned feckless ways! There is no one here who wants you to participate it in your funeral shroud!" she told her brother in a high, shrill voice. Not many people in Middle-earth had guts and dignity to lecture their brother the king in the front of his own household, but Éowyn of Rohan surely did.

"I'll be fine", King Éomer simply said and seemed to flinch. A look of pain briefly rippled across his features, and Lothíriel almost reached between him and the Rider to help him walk.

"Come along, then. We need to get you out of this armour, and then I will have a healer inspect how badly you have managed to hurt yourself", Éowyn snapped and took the other side of her brother. The Rider who had previously stood there quickly made way to her.

Before they got moving Éowyn glanced at Lothíriel, "Sorry about this. We'll speak later. Now I must tend to my idiot brother."

"It's good to see you, too", King Éomer muttered and grimaced.

"Let me know if you need anything", Lothíriel said in a wan voice, but whether her friend or the King heard it, she couldn't say.

* * *

There was a certain tense quality to the atmosphere of the Golden Hall for the rest of that day. Though the King had not seemed fatally wounded upon return, his brush with death had not left the household unshaken. Here and there Lothíriel saw hushed conversations between small groups; she didn't need her still basic Rohirric to guess the topic.

Éowyn made a quick appearance before dinner. Her expression was stressed when she said that while her brother's injuries were not life-threatening, his fever was not yet going down.

"The healer said it should be just a cold from riding in the rain, but I'm worried there's something in the wounds... he still has energy to be in a foul mood, though, so perhaps I'm just being fussy", she reported as she balanced a tray for her brother in her arms. Some hot, hearty soup and healing tea might be just what he needed in addition to plenty of rest. Lothíriel told her friend as much and would have hugged her if the tray was not in the way.

There appeared a lopsided smile on Éowyn's face, and it made her strangely look more like her brother.

"It's just like him, keep on going stubbornly even despite the injuries... but I suppose this feast is as important to him as it is to me. I just hope he'll be all right", she said softly.

"I'm sure he will be", Lothíriel reassured her. She didn't say how anxious she was to see that very thing, too.

Éowyn hurried along then, leaving her friend with an uneasy mood. It remained so for the rest of the afternoon and evening, and knowing she could hardly focus on anything while she worried for her friend, Lothíriel retired early. She tried to pass the time and distract herself by writing for her father, but even that task, which normally calmed her mind, did not seem to work as usual.

Eventually she put down her quill and stared at the half-hearted scribbles on the parchment before her. Why was this getting to her so much? King Éomer had not seemed like he was at death's door, despite the fever. Did it have to do with her and Éowyn's conversation today? Might her friend feel more conflicted about leaving Rohan now that her brother was injured... or, had she today realised how truly alone he would be once she left? When she was gone, there would be no one welcoming him home or lecturing him when he returned with injuries, or just look after him when he was in such pain. And what must it feel like to him, letting the last of his family go and knowing it was the only way he could do right by his sister?

Lothíriel's thoughts were running faster and faster. She groaned out loud and wiped a hand across her eyes. Éowyn and her brother's lives were not her business and she would do well not to overstep. But she could still show that she cared, and would gladly offer her help if it was in any way needed.

So when the evening grew later, she exited her room once more and went forth to see Éowyn. However, she was quick to find out that her friend was staying with the King and most like would spend the night watching over him.

Again Lothíriel hesitated for a moment, but eventually she decided there was no harm in checking on her friend – and asking how the King was doing – and making sure that all was well.

A pair of Riders were again standing guard at the door leading to the King's rooms. Both of them shot a quizzical look her way, but she met their eyes evenly.

"I would like to speak with the Lady Éowyn, if she has time", she stated her business and folded her hands before her.

"Very well. Give me a moment", said one of the two guards and he stepped inside.

A few minutes later, the guard returned and gestured at the still open door.

"You may enter", he said, at which she smiled a little and then stepped inside.

Fire was burning low and there were only a couple of candles lit. Éowyn awaited her in the same room where they had dined with her brother, but the door leading to what Lothiriel guessed was bedchamber was ajar. It was very quiet now.

"Lothíriel, is everything all right?" Éowyn asked in concern. She still had the energy to care, although her face was pale and there were shadows under her eyes. The poor thing looked thoroughly exhausted.

"That is what I meant to ask you", said the younger of the two, now feeling a little more confident about having come here. "I just wanted to make sure you're all right. Him, too."

A faint smile touched Éowyn's face.

"He's a little bit better now. And sleeping, at long last", she said and brushed a hand across her face. "I'm fine, too. Just really tired."

"You should get some rest as well", Lothíriel pointed out carefully, but Éowyn shook her head.

"I can't. I don't want to leave him alone tonight", she said, though there was a look in her eyes that practically begged for sleep.

The words burst out of Lothíriel's mouth before she had a proper chance to even consider them.

"I could stay with him. I'm not that tired, anyway", she said and immediately began to wonder if this was too much, if she was crossing a line. _He_ was not her family, she had no reason to worry over his well-being any more than common decency required. But he was Éowyn's brother and... perhaps he could be Lothíriel's friend, too.

All the same, Éowyn did not seem to have any misgivings. A tentative smile returned to her exhausted features.

"Would you really do that?" she asked in pleased surprise. But almost at once she shook her head and looked more solemn, "I shouldn't be bothering my guest with such concerns, though."

"It's not a bother, Éowyn. I'm glad to be of help", said Lothíriel steadily.

With a small smile, the White Lady reached to hug her tightly.

"Thank you, my friend", she said and let out a deep breath.

It was not long before Lothíriel was back to the King's rooms again; she had ventured briefly to her own chamber to fetch her current project. Knowing she'd be up for some time, it would be a good chance to get some work done on the fine linen she had purchased with Hild and Lady Scýne.

She hesitated momentarily at the door of the King's bedchamber. What if he woke up and took offence for her boldness? But then, Éowyn seemed to think it was fine for her to be here. She wouldn't have agreed if there was a chance her brother did not appreciate this.

The bedchamber was dimly lit and its occupant did not stir when Lothiriel entered. The room was much alike the living area, with same well-made and carved furniture. A great four-postered bed stood there, with massive chest at the foot end of it. In the corner was a stand that now stood empty, except for the famous horsetail helmet. She guessed someone had taken the rest of the armour away to examine and fix the damaged parts.

Though here too one could not see many personal belongings, the room had a comfortable atmosphere. There were pelts and rugs on the floor, rich hangings on the walls, and an abundance of matching colours and detail. But none of this Lothíriel considered for very long. Her eyes were soon drawn to the bed and the figure resting there.

He was sleeping quietly, face turned away, bare-chested except for the bandages around his midsection. She could see bruises where skin was showing, making her shudder. His left arm was bandaged as well, and even with linen she thought it looked a little swollen above the wrist.

The King of Rohan remained oblivious to this change of guard, though. His chest rose and fell evenly, and soon enough she dared to move and take seat near the bed, where Éowyn must have sat earlier. Lothíriel lit herself a candle to be able to work and then folded open the piece of fabric she had been carrying.

The flowing shape of a shift had already emerged, but Lothíriel would still have to finish the seams and edges. There was plenty of time before the wedding, but she hoped to get this bridal shift ready so that she could give it to Éowyn as a Yule gift. It was a tradition in Gondor for the female relatives to give the bride such garment before their wedding, but seeing Éowyn had none, Lothíriel hoped it would be all right for her to provide it.

She inspected her handiwork closely. Garlands embroidered in silver would emerge around the neck in delicate loops and twines; the pattern she had in mind was very much inspired by the carved knotwork decorations she had seen in the Hall. Hopefully it would remind Éowyn of Rohan. She would add a few roses here and there, to dash the white and silver with golden thread. To her joy, she had found the kind that matched Éowyn's hair beautifully. She picked up some thread and a needle and began to work again.

Time went by quietly. Mostly Lothíriel kept her eyes on her handicraft, but occasionally she looked up and watched the sleeping horselord for a little bit. Seeing his breathing remained deep and easy, she felt confident he'd be much better in the morning.

Entire night might have passed like that, but it was not to be so. For at some point, maybe a couple of hours after Lothíriel had come, she could suddenly see movement from the corner of her eye. She looked up to see King Éomer propped up on the elbow of his good arm and looking at her in sleepy confusion.

"My lady?" he asked in a raspy, quizzical voice, blinking like he wasn't sure if he was dreaming. _This is how he seems in the morning, not at all vigilant, but just a man..._

Heat rose up her neck and she nearly dropped the fabric she had been working on.

"I beg your pardon, Sire. Éowyn did not want to leave you alone tonight, but she was very tired, and so I offered to sit with you. I hope you don't mind", she explained quickly.

He seemed to relax a little bit, though he didn't lay down again.

"I see. It's fine, I suppose", he said quietly, though he still considered her like he wasn't sure if he was awake at all. With a deep breath, he sat up straight and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. When he started to get up, Lothíriel half rose as well.

"My lord, maybe you shouldn't be standing up yet", she said in concern, but he did so anyway.

"It's all right. I need to stretch myself a little bit", he said in low, gruff tones and rose up. He couldn't hide the way he flinched, though; he had to be sore from all his bruises and injuries.

With a groan he took a couple of painful steps and then sat heavily down opposite her in an armchair. She thought he looked a little ill, and so she got up and reached to feel his forehead, reacting even before thinking. But once her fingertips came in contact with his proud brow, she knew she couldn't back down now. He seemed to accept it in any case, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

"You still feel warm, Sire", she observed quietly. "But perhaps the fever has gone down a little bit?"

"Aye, I think so", he replied, still keeping his eyes closed. He did not open them until she withdrew her hand; the sensation of his warm skin remained against her fingers.

"That should be good", she said, clenching her fingers almost as an after-thought. She looked at him quizzically, "Do you need anything, Sire? If you want to eat something, I could send for food."

"It is not necessary. Éowyn already made me eat earlier", he answered with a wry twitch at the corner of his mouth, but the look in his eyes was gently amused.

Now Lothíriel's eyes took a longer view of him. His hair was messy from sleep, but his face had regained some colour since when he and his company had returned. His torso was exposed except for the bandages but he didn't seem to feel cold. She noted the hard plane of his chest, toned by years and years of battles, and the strength that rested on his shoulders and arms even despite miscolouring from bruises. His breeches seemed to be good, soft material, but a little too thin to be entirely decent. She looked away quickly and thought of how she had never expected to witness this one man in such state.

King Éomer seemed to notice her sudden discomfiture. Well, it had to be quite obvious, at least judging by the heat on her cheeks.

"Sorry about this. It's difficult to get dressed with the arm", he said and she saw him making a general gesture at himself from the corner of her eye.

"Does it hurt much?" she asked carefully.

"A little. But I've taken worse... and every injury is a lesson, after all", he answered in a surprisingly harsh tone.

"A lesson about what?" she couldn't help but wonder out loud.

"About being more careful", said King Éomer grimly. He let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry you were hurt", she said, her voice coming out as a whisper.

"It's fine. I'll live, it would seem", he said and smiled a little bit, though there was a weariness in his eyes. "Éothain wasn't wrong, to tell you the truth. I _should_ be more careful... it's just difficult sometimes."

"How do you mean?" she asked him, though she did have some idea of what he would answer.

"I was trained to be a soldier, not a king. In battle, I forget about everything else... I can only think of what I need to do in order to win. And if someone has to get hurt, I'd rather it was me than someone under my command. Physical pain is not nearly as bad as guilt over knowing somebody died because you did not lead well enough", he replied quietly. It was about the thing she had expected him to say.

"I wish I knew what to say to you", Lothíriel said in gentle tones. "But there are no easy answers. I only know it would break Éowyn's heart to lose you, Sire."

"Indeed it would. I know what it would feel like", he stated heavily and there was a shadow on his features. Lothíriel shivered. She knew the tale by heart now, how he had discovered his sister lying among the dead on the battlefield... and how it had driven him mad with rage and grief. Éowyn had survived, in the end, but to really feel such loss was not something you forgot easily.

King Éomer seemed to shake himself and he looked at her again.

"I wanted to thank you in my sister's behalf. She really did seem tired before... you are a good friend to her", he said warmly.

"It's nothing. I don't want to be useless", Lothíriel said, feeling quite stupid all of a sudden.

"Useless?" he repeated and sounded genuinely surprised. "Whyever would you think so?"

"I just don't like the way it feels, seeing people in pain or in need. But sometimes there isn't much you can do for them, no matter how much you'd like to help. And sometimes it's just a little difficult being the simple, sheltered young lady among so many great and famous people", she answered softly and stared at her hands, folded in her lap.

He was quiet for a moment, but she could feel his eyes on her. When he spoke, his tone was low and solemn.

"I understand that very well. But you must remember that those great and famous people are... well, _people_. Stories tend to paint a different picture. Nobody thinks to ask how terrified you were, and yet how you knew it would hurt so much more if you didn't do it. And you are in everybody's business for a while, but soon enough they are gone, and you are left with your scars alone. In that moment, one will appreciate the kindness of a simple and sheltered young lady much more than the awe and exultations of the mighty", King Éomer said, and each word coming from his mouth astonished her more.

Heat rushed up Lothíriel's neck and she looked down in embarrassment, but he was not yet done talking.

"There is work for heroes out there", the King of Rohan continued and her voice was gentler now, "But sometimes they can only rise up to those tasks because of the people who catch them when they return from battlefield. The work of gentle, healing hands often goes unnoticed and unpraised, but it's no less important. Brief, shining moments don't mean much if the long and arduous tasks of mending and building and healing are neglected. And I would gladly give up my life if it meant that the work of those hands could continue."

Lothíriel did not know what to say. Her eyes prickled and she quickly lifted a hand to wipe a hand across them, desperate not to cry in front of him.

"Thank you for saying that, Sire", she managed to utter at length, though her voice trembled still.

"... it's Éomer, you know", he said, almost too quiet for her to hear. But she did, and so looked up in surprise.

"Sorry?" she asked him to make sure what she had heard him was right indeed.

"My name is Éomer. You are free to use it", he stated simply.

She looked at him in astonishment. And then, slowly, gave him a shy little smile.

"And my name is Lothíriel, as you well know", she said to him and saw him smiling back in response. The expression really did compliment his features and she found herself thinking of how nice it would be to see him smiling more often. But she suppressed that line of thought almost as soon as it emerged.

Instead, she glanced at the bed and then directed her eyes on him once more.

"You should go back to sleep. You need plenty of rest if you mean to heal", she told him in firm but gentle tones.

"Hmm. Perhaps you are right", he said and shifted on his seat before taking support of armchair with his good arm and pushing himself up and standing. He winced in silent pain and she shot up as well, offering her hand for support. Briefly his hand, warm and large and hard as stone, fell with weight on hers. But then almost as soon he withdrew it again and took a few limping steps to the bed. There he more or less collapsed with a deep breath.

Lothíriel clasped her hands together, aching to do something, _anything_ , but knowing only time would heal his hurts.

"You don't have to stay up with me, if you're tired. I'll be fine", he said suddenly as he was pulling a blanket over his lower body.

"I promised to stay", Lothíriel said simply. To give herself something to do, she gripped a poker by the fireplace and gave a good prodding to the embers. She fed some peat to them to keep the fire going. She shot an absent glance at him over her shoulder and saw his dark eyes fixed on her, and in that moment she could only wonder what he was thinking of right then.

She gave him a small smile.

"Get some rest, Éomer. I'll be right here, if you need anything."

The King of Rohan looked at her like she had just given him a present unlike anything he had ever received before.

"... thank you."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here is an update at last! It's taking me a bit longer than usual to write new chapters, but I'm being pretty busy right now, and don't have that much time over the weekends to write. But worry not - this story is not going to be abandoned!

Either way, I did enjoy writing this, especially the latter part of the chapter. I hope you liked it, too!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **EStrunk -** I'm glad you liked it! I really enjoyed writing those parts, too. :) Your worry for Éomer was not quite unwarranted, but he's still in one piece!

 **Cricklewood16 -** Thank you! :)

 **Anon -** Happy to hear it! And I hope you liked their conversation in this chapter. I know I had a good time writing it! But you are right - Lothíriel is quite young at this point, so certain level of uncertainty is fitting.

Sometimes you see people arguing that Éowyn's ending in the books is somehow disappointing, as if a woman's story can only be valid if she is doing things that are seen as masculine. It's sad, really, if you actually look at her reason for fighting in the war - and if you think it's somehow bad for her to find healing and self-understanding.

 **sai19 -** Slow burn can be quite delightful indeed, even if you are anxious to see things moving forward! :) I'm glad you're liking it!

 **Jeraly -** Thank you!

 **Guest -** She's definitely taking it now! ;)

 **Jo -** :D Don't give me ideas! But I'm happy to hear you liked it!

 **Lovingvamp346 -** Thank you! :)

 **Menelwen -** Yes, things are moving, even if it's slow. And let's just say Éowyn is not blind! ;) I'm afraid Éomer did not quite manage it unharmed, but at least he's not seriously injured. I imagine some of those ideas may have occurred to him in this chapter, though!

 **ambereyes55 -** Thank you! :)


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Lothíriel did not know what was the time when she finally passed out in the chair, curled up as much as it was possible. That was the way she also woke up when first streaks of sunlight were starting to warm her face. Groggily she lifted up her head and immediately winced when a lance of pain went down her neck. A chair was hardly the best place for restful slumber.

"Good morning. Have you been there whole night?" asked a soft, friendly voice; the question sounded mostly rhetorical. Lothíriel blinked to clear her eyes, only to see Éomer sitting up in the bed. He looked to be a bit more awake than herself.

"Good morning. Yes, well, at least my neck feels like it", she said sheepishly and sat up as well. She could only imagine what kind of a mess she looked like.

"You didn't have to", said the horselord quietly, "but I'm glad that you did."

His eyes met hers, softer and gentler than ever before now. She looked down in embarrassment and tried to smooth the front of her wrinkled gown with a trembling hand.

"Of course. No one should be alone and hurting", she uttered and stood up. He considered her quietly, with deep, thoughtful eyes.

Lothíriel brushed an errant lock of hair out of her face and glanced at the door. Then she turned at him again and asked, "Do you think I could get discreetly back to my room?"

"Just ask one of the guards to help you. I don't think many people are up yet, anyway", he said and moved himself awkwardly to the edge of the bed. It looked like he still couldn't move without some discomfort.

"How do you feel this morning?" Lothíriel asked as she stood up and straightened herself.

"Still sore. Although I must say, yesterday it felt like two _mûmakil_ had sat on me, but today it was just one", he said wryly, making her smile. She remembered his famous feat of single-handedly taking down two _mûmakil_ during the Battle of Pelennor fields, but her still sleepy mind couldn't come up with an appropriate jape about it.

"Well, that's an improvement", she commented and approached him. "How about your fever?"

This time, she wasn't uncertain to feel his forehead. But he – he still closed his eyes at the contact and let out that small sigh as the last time. Poor man must be so done with females fussing about him. Be that as it may, she judged his temperature was closer to normal now, or at least the fever was not even as high as last night.

"I think it's better now", she commented and pulled her hand back. "If you keep improving at this rate, you'll be good to participate the feast tomorrow."

"You think Éowyn will let me?" he asked with that lopsided smile and a glint in his eyes. Abruptly she wondered why had she ever doubted him having a sense of humour. It was astonishing but nice at the same time. She had always liked joking and exchanging jabs with her brothers.

"Obviously you'll have to be on your best behaviour, but she can be reasoned with", she said, making him chuckle under his breath. The sound was deep and rich, but it ended in a wince of pain. Lothíriel opened her mouth to apologise, but he spoke before she could.

"You shouldn't make me laugh right now, Lothíriel. My ribs really can't handle it very well", he said in mock severity. Still the glint remained in his eyes, and she wondered at the depths she was now finding in this man. But perhaps last night, the quiet comfort of the words they had exchanged, had transformed everything.

Perhaps now... he trusted her.

"My sincere apologies to your ribs", she said, feeling a little dizzy for whatever reason. Éomer snorted.

"What did I just say?" he muttered and shook his head, though he did smile. She thought of how he was not helping her at all in keeping a solemn composure, and would probably have caused him further discomfort, but that was the moment she could hear Éowyn's voice in the living area. Quickly she moved and wrapped the unfinished bridal shift inside her shawl, so that her friend would not catch a glimpse of it yet.

Éowyn burst inside, full of energy after a proper night of sleep. She looked considerably more rested than last evening, which Lothíriel noted with some satisfaction.

"Good morning! Still here, Lothíriel? And how are you feeling, foolish brother of mine?" she said, already moving forward to stir the fire to life, and then to check Éomer's temperature, like Lothíriel had just done.

"I'm much better", he stated gruffly and grimaced.

"Excellent. I fully expect you to stay abed today, though. You'll need your strength for tomorrow", Éowyn said and turned around again. Behind her back, Éomer was making an exaggerated look of suffering. Lothíriel managed to hide her giggle in a cough.

The sound brought her friend's attention back to her.

"Why don't I escort you back to your room? It should save us some questions, at least", she noted.

"Yes, of course", said Lothíriel and followed her friend towards the door. Before exiting, she threw a glance at the King of Rohan over her shoulder, and saw that his eyes followed her all the way out.

* * *

The dawn of the Harvest Feast was cool and misty, and sunlight was pale beyond a thin veil of clouds. There was a profound quiet on the land. Yet if spirits of the dead had indeed wandered free last night, they had not made themselves known, or left any sign of their passing.

Éomer and Éowyn began the day with a visit to the grave of their uncle – though first they argued whether he was well enough to move that much. It was really quite something, seeing these two strong-minded siblings doing their battle of wills. But Éomer was adamant. This was the first Harvest Feast since the loss of the man who had raised them, and his first one as the King of Rohan.

Eventually Éowyn gave in, though it was with the condition he'd ride there, and would not refuse help along the way.

Lothíriel did not join them. This thing was none of her business, and what her friends spoke at the grave of their uncle was only for the two surviving members of the House of Eorl to know. But she did wait for them on the high terrace when they returned, and though words were not exchanged, she touched both their hands in a quiet gesture of comfort.

The Golden Hall was ready for the feasting. Air was fresh and sweet, surfaces were polished as clean as ever, and there were many garlands hanging on walls or wrapped around pillars. Éowyn and the chatelaine of the royal household made their last round to make sure all was ready. There was a calm about the royal household after so many busy days, but beneath it rippled expectation and excitement for the long-awaited feast.

First the King would welcome in all his guests as they came and then the banquet would begin. After that, music and dancing and drinking was to be expected. With the amount of guests, the whole thing would begin in afternoon and carry on to night.

Getting ready took the better part of the morning. Lothíriel bathed and scrubbed herself clean, even going as far as using some rose oil she had brought from Dol Amroth with her. Then Hild swept in to help her get dressed. As the occasion would be more or less formal, Lothíriel had chosen one of her better gowns, a deep blue dress with silver trimmings. On her neck and ears she hung pearls from the Bay of Belfalas, inherited from her late mother.

Hild outdid herself with Lothíriel's hair, first making many braids in it and then fastening the mass neatly at the back of her head in a complex arrangement. The young maid's imagination and enthusiasm seemed to know no limits.

At last they were finished. Hild checked one more time that the dress was unwrinkled and all the braids properly in their place, and then Lothíriel went along to join Éowyn before the celebrations of the day began.

* * *

At Éomer's sign, the event began.

Most of the royal household was already gathered when he arrived in the great hall. Lothíriel was standing in a crowd near the dais, with good enough view of proceedings but also in such place that she would not stand out.

The lord of the Hall too had made more effort than usual to prepare for the occasion: his tunic was beautiful green with gold and white embroideries down the front and at the hem, he carried his sword on his side, and on his head rested the golden circlet of the kings of Rohan. In the soft, rich light of Meduseld, his bright, braided hair almost seemed to be glowing. While he still walked with a limp and held his left arm close to his body, Lothíriel thought the man looked every inch the Lord of Rohirrim as he took seat on his throne.

He lifted the hand of his uninjured arm and a couple seconds later, the twin doors of Meduseld were opened. Then guests began to stream inside in a fairly mixed order, nobles and commoners alike. In pairs or small groups they approached the throne, halting before the Riders of the King's Guard who watched over the event. Then Éomer and Éowyn, standing next to the throne, would greet them and exchange some words about where the current bunch of guests had travelled from, how their journey had been like, and other such small pleasantries. He'd bid them welcome, at which point the line began to move again. In this manner, the feasting hall began to slowly fill. Lady Scýne stood next to Lothíriel, supplying her with a translation whenever she needed it.

Éowyn was radiant in her gown of pale yellow, almost like a ray of sunlight. She spared kind, warm words to each group of guests, and wished them a pleasant evening. When she noticed her brother was growing more weary, she took lead and spoke with the guests, or perhaps signalled to a chatelaine to provide them with something to drink. Lothíriel could only imagine the strain of carrying on this ceremony, especially when he was not yet entirely recovered from the recent battle.

Meanwhile, those who had already been welcomed to the feast spoke softly among themselves, quietly enough not to raise their voices above those of the King and the White Lady. Friends and acquaintances whispered greetings among themselves and exchanged comments on this years gathering.

At long last, the final pair of guests, an elderly couple from Aldburg, had been welcomed and ushered away from the throne. At Éowyn's signal servants began to move, so swift and efficient it was like they were performing a complicated dance. Tables were set, cups and dishes carried, and on the dais, King's table was prepared. Lothíriel felt a little nervous. She would sit again next to Éowyn, which was even more of a seat of honour now that there were so many nobles of the land present. She took a deep breath and went to take the seat by Éowyn's currently empty chair.

To her right side sat a man she did not know. She assumed he was a Gondorian emissary, perhaps sent here by King Elessar; his features bespoke some blood of the Dúnedain in south and his hair was dark brown. However, his array was Rohirric, so perhaps he was more of a permanent representative of the King of Gondor and Arnor? He shot her a smile and she answered it, surprised as she was. The next formal part was just about to begin, so there was no time to exchange greetings or introductions.

The Hall quieted down as Éowyn approached the King's table, carrying a golden cup between her hands. Earlier, she had told Lothíriel that this was the honourable duty of the highest ranking lady in the land. The cup was filled with ceremonial mead made for this special occasion and each guest would get their taste of it.

Éomer got up on his feet, making the movement look more effortless than one would expect with his injuries. With a faint smile he took the cup from the hand of his sister. Then he lifted the vessel and surveyed the hall with stark, solemn eyes. It felt like each and every guest were holding their breath, waiting for him to speak. He did not do so until Éowyn had taken her place next to him.

"Tonight we are gathered here to remember friends and family that have gone before us to the halls of our fathers, and to give thanks for the gifts of the land", he started in a strong voice. He held a pause before going on, "Perhaps some of you are wondering what reason there is to celebrate. For this year, too many a good man breathed their last, and much of harvest was lost. I will not lie, we have a long and difficult winter ahead of us. But I know the strength and will of my people, and faith is found in laughter shared between friends. And perhaps, tonight, we can at least be grateful for these three things: Meduseld still stands in the Riddermark, _mearas_ have not abandoned our green fields, and Eorl's people are free to rebuild and to live. We will endure!"

Great noise followed his words, almost drowning out Éowyn's quick translation. Guests lifted their cups and enthusiastic shouts filled the air. Lothíriel scarcely remembered to drain her own cup, as she felt so struck by Éomer's speech. Once, she had thought him a man of few words, who did not have the eloquence that would greatly benefit a king. But he certainly knew how to address his people, heartening them and lifting their minds. And he had even slipped in an implication that he had seen _mearas!_

Suddenly, Lothiriel felt it in her heart: this man had the makings of greatness in him.

Then servants were moving again, filling the tables with food fresh from the kitchens. It was a hearty meal to be sure, and prepared with great skill, but not the likes of which she had seen in Minas Tirith or Dol Amroth in times of plenty. But she didn't make such a tactless observation out loud. Instead, she told Éowyn that Meduseld had never looked more beautiful.

It was not long into the banquet that the man to her right finally spoke to her.

"My lady", he began in a smooth, pleasant voice, "I did not yet have a chance to introduce myself. I am Lord Deorwine of Harrowdale, nephew to Marshal Erkenbrand. I believe I have the high honour of addressing to Lady Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, the only daughter of esteemed Prince Imrahil?"

"Indeed you do, though whether it's an honour or not, I cannot say", she answered, trying not to sound overly taken aback. She should have known he'd instigate conversation sooner or later. "I am pleased to meet you."

She knew Marshal Erkenbrand was one of Éomer's most trusted men, tasked with the guardianship of the still perilous West-Mark. He was also counted among the greatest warriors of Rohan, though he was not a young man anymore. Lothíriel had not actually met Marshal Erkenbrand but knew him by reputation. He was not present for the Harvest Feast and she guessed it was because of recent orc activity; even at the time of celebration, éoreds must be ready to ride under the orders of an elite commander.

This was also partially reason for Lord Déorwine's being here. He was presenting both his own lands and his uncle's.

He quickly proved himself a lively conversationalist, telling her of how his brother the previous lord of Harrowdale had fallen in the Ring War, thus leaving him with the duty of carrying on the family line.

"Imagine my shock when the seat was given to me after the war. I had already made my life plans, which mostly consisted of a carefree office of a merry bachelor and many long sojourns in Gondor. My brother was the soldier and leader. But alas, one must do what one must do", he said and shook his head elegantly as he reached for his cup of wine. He had not touched ale the entire time.

"I hope you don't mind me saying this, my lord", Lothíriel said at length, "I did not guess before you were of Rohirric nobility. Rather, I had expected you to be an emissary from Gondor."

Lord Déorwine let out a low, throaty laugh.

"Yes, people often make that mistake. It's no matter. You see, my grandmother came to Rohan as lady-in-waiting to Morwen Queen. Here she happened to meet my grandfather, then the Lord of Harrowdale. She had a son by him – who in time fathered Dúnhere and myself", he explained helpfully. Lothíriel blushed in embarrassment. What a silly thing for her to assume! Gondor and Rohan had been allied for five hundred years, so there had been plenty of chances for marriages between lords and commoners alike. Hadn't her own kinswoman come here as queen to King Théoden's own father? Abruptly she remembered it also meant Morwen Steelsheen was Éomer and Éowyn's grandmother. It was easy to forget that fact, even with their air and height that betrayed having some Dúnedain blood in their veins.

"Queen Morwen is a distant cousin of my father", she said, mostly to make conversation and get rid of her embarrassment. "She still lives in Lossarnarch, though she is quiet ancient now. I once met her when I was a young girl."

"Yes, the old blood of Númenor is slow to fade. Myself, I often visit my Gondorian relatives, though not so much now that I have the lordship. In fact I used to think I'd eventually settle down somewhere in Gondor... sometimes I feel like I was born at the wrong place, in a wrong time", said Lord Déorwine with a soft sigh. She got a feeling this was something that he truly regretted.

"I am sorry about the fate of your brother, my lord", Lothíriel said softly.

"As am I. He was much more invested, and more gifted in being a leader. Now I must carry on in his stead. I suppose we all lost something in that war... a fair amount of freedom, and perhaps also a bit of our sanity", he said and cast her a sort of smile that was both deeply bittersweet but also very charming. It reminded her of some lords she had met back in Gondor, the kind that yearned for the sea and looked more to the past than to future. She couldn't help but wonder what did the maidens of Rohan make of this man.

But either way, he was entertaining company for conversation, and before she knew it, the banquet was already at an end. Lothíriel looked up with some surprise when servants began to take trays and dishes away. Realising how the time had gone by, she felt again discomfited. She hadn't meant to ignore Éowyn or Éomer by talking only with one neighbour in the table, but somehow Lord Déorwine had managed to get the entirety of her attention.

She knew there was some time before the musicians would begin, so this would be her chance to make amends for letting herself be monopolised for most of the banquet. But now there seemed to be a moment for free mingling, and so an elderly man in fine attire approached the man to her right side. Lord Déorwine cast her an apologetic look before turning to speak with the person who had come to talk to him. Lothíriel deemed now was her opportunity to speak with her friends. However, Éowyn had to go and see to something in the kitchens, and Éomer was already surrounded by several men who she guessed were nobles of the land

But then she noticed the look on his face. His mouth was a thin line and his eyes were getting more and more impatient as the group around him chattered away. It was a look she recognised, almost as though by instinct. Yes, she was sure of it: Éomer needed a getaway, and she knew how to do it. Back in Dol Amroth, she occasionally staged interventions for her father when he was being aggravated by some minor lords of Belfalas. The sign for her to sweep in was him scratching his nose; she'd come up with some excuse that required his immediate attention, thus freeing him from unwanted company.

So Lothíriel rose up on her feet with flourish and leant closer to Éomer's seat. Like Aunt Ivriniel liked to say, just because you were a slight noble lady didn't mean you couldn't take your space when you needed it.

"Sire, I beg your pardon, but you still haven't shown me your favourite hanging in Meduseld", Lothíriel announced pleasantly. Looking around the faces of men around Éomer, she could tell they were not pleased to have her distract the King with such an irrelevant request – which it would be, if she really were interested in dragging a man in recovery after herself around the Hall. But she saw the spark come back to life in his eyes, and knew he was well aware of what she was doing.

"That is most grievous of me, my lady. We must fix that at once", he stated solemnly and pushed himself up with the help of his good hand. "Excuse me, my lords. It appears I have some host's duties to attend to. You'll remember this is Lady Lothíriel's first time in Rohan."

And just as she had provided him with an excuse to get away, so did he make it clear that as a welcoming host, he simply couldn't refuse such request from the daughter of Prince Imrahil.

It was crowded in the Hall, but people made way to their king, and so they were able to move fairly easily. Lothíriel did not want to make him walk too much; however, he guided her to an alcove nearby, which was currently empty. There against the wall was a long bench where they took seat. At Éomer's gesture, a pair of Riders remained near.

"Thank you for doing that. I was about to say something that would probably have insulted them more or less. Your strategy was much smoother", he said warmly as he leant back and let out a deep breath. He was mostly in shadow now, which was probably a welcome interruption to the long evening of being in everybody's business.

"Oh, that's only because I've got plenty of practice", said Lothíriel and smiled. "Sometimes my father needs to get away from idle conversation, and that's where I come in."

He looked a little surprised.

"Imrahil, with his infinite patience?" he asked in wonder, which made her laugh.

"Yes, even him", she said in amusement. But then she glanced at him seriously. "Do you feel unwell? I can send for Éowyn, if you need to go and get some rest."

"No, no. I just needed a breather. Lord Hereward of my council did not give me a moment of peace during the banquet, and the minute he left my side, that bunch came to take their place", Éomer replied and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. He continued on in a thoughtful voice, "This is my first Harvest Feast as king. It feels... important, like this will set the course of days to come. I need to be here until the end."

She could understand that. Beginnings were just as important as endings.

Lothíriel reached to pat his good arm gently.

"Very well. But if you need to get out, just let me know. I'll come up with something", she promised him with some mischief in her smile and voice, and saw a warm, thankful look in his eyes.

"I appreciate it", he said quietly, before his expression grew sharper again. "I noticed you were talking with Lord Déorwine?"

"Yes, indeed. Did you know I first thought he was a Gondorian! He's an interesting fellow", Lothíriel said, still feeling a little stupid over her wrong assumptions.

"That he is. He's very little like his late brother... Déorwine is gifted in his own way, but he's not used to thinking much about the needs of the people. Still, since his brother died, he has been trying much more than I ever expected of him. Perhaps he will be a fine leader one day", Éomer commented in a low voice, eyes fixed ahead.

"Well, at least he doesn't have to look far for an example", she said and regarded her friend's profile intently. "What you said when raising the cup... it was wonderful. You truly sounded like a king."

She saw the corner of his mouth lifting, and then Éomer directed his eyes at her again. There was a strange light in them, almost fierce in a way. It made a shiver run down her spine.

"Thank you. I spent a lot of time thinking of what I should say. What should I tell to all those people who look to me for strength and faith. Before, I was not sure I could do it", he spoke gravely as he looked straight at her. A faint shadow passed across his features, but then something... something else appeared.

"What changed, then?" she asked him.

His answer was the last one she'd expect.

"You did. When we first spoke after your arrival... I never thanked you properly for what you did for me that night. The way you looked at me, not with pity for some broken thing but with understanding, like the Lady Nienna herself had come to release me of my guilt and unburden my heart. Since then, I've felt more... hopeful. And more resolute about what I must do."

Lothíriel had no idea of what to say. In wonder she stared at him, trying to process what he was telling her. She and her attempt to maybe make him feel a little better had such impact?

Seeing she was not responding, he let out a breath. The spark in his eyes had become more of a slow, intense burning.

"Lothíriel, I hope it's not too bold of me to say so, but you look very -"

For better or for worse, he did not get to finish his sentence. While he was speaking, Lord Déorwine suddenly appeared before them, and his voice drowned Éomer's softer tone.

"My lady Lothíriel! There you are! I have been looking all over for you", he declared, offering a dashing smile to her. She could immediately feel Éomer tensing next to her. As for herself, she nearly jumped at Lord Déorwine' s sudden, noisy address.

He seemed to realise that his unexpected arrival had rather disturbed them. He instantly offered them a bow.

"But if I have interrupted something, I do apologise. I did not realise you were in conversation with the King", Lord Déorwine said smoothly.

"It's no matter", Éomer said stiffly. Lothíriel noticed both his hands, even that of the injured arm, had pressed into fists.

"Is there something I can help you with, my lord?" she hurried to say in a friendlier tone. While Lord Déorwine had very much disturbed quite an intense moment, it was not like he had meant to do so. And he had been perfectly pleasant during the banquet.

"The music is just about to begin. Like the fool I am, I've been looking for you and hoping that I might have your first dance, my lady", said the Lord of Harrowdale and he bowed again. He cast a doubtful glance at Éomer, "Unless the King has already asked you...?"

"I can hardly dance right now, so that would be no, I have not asked her", Éomer replied tersely. But then he looked at her once more, and in a softer voice he continued, "Go ahead, my lady. I would not wish for you to miss the dancing."

At first she felt taken aback and a little hurt that he was using titles again, but soon enough she realised it was simply because they were on a first name basis only in private.

"Will you be all right, Sire?" she asked him before getting up and joining Lord Déorwine. True, the man had quite hogged her for himself for the better part of the evening, but he had been nothing but friendly, and it would be rude to refuse his invitation.

"Of course, my lady. I should go and talk with my guests, in any case", he said dismissively and rose as well, though the motion looked a bit more difficult now than before. She had to clasp her hands to keep from offering them as support.

"Shall we, then?" asked Lord Déorwine and offered her his arm. She took it and nodded at Éomer. The gesture felt unnecessarily formal.

The floor was now fully cleared of tables. On the left side of the dais, a small band of musicians were adjusting their instruments and trying out little bits of tunes. Some of those looked familiar, but there were also instruments she had never seen before. A sense of excitement rose abruptly in her breast. While she had by now heard a lot of music sung by Rohirrim, or performed by single musicians, this was the first she saw an actual band playing their songs. And she certainly had not danced to any of their music.

Other dancing couples gathered on the floor as well and the space was packed with eager participants. It didn't seem to matter where you stood, unlike in Gondorian court dances.

"I must warn you, my lord", she said to Lord Déorwine, "I have never tried Rohirric dances. So I can't promise I'll be a very good partner."

"It's quite all right, my lady. Our dances are mostly very easy to follow", he reassured her.

He took a hold of her, one hand on her own and another just above her waist. She fumbled a bit until he directed her to lay her free hand on his shoulder. It was more intimate than what she was used to, but he quickly explained this grip helped to keep the balance during the dance. Lothíriel was just about to ask what that meant exactly, but did not get the chance. Music began and he was already moving with the crowd around them. Only thing she could do was follow his lead and try to keep up.

At first, she was not so much dancing as she was jumping. She was painfully aware of how clumsy it must come across, but thankfully the crowd was quite thick around them. But eventually, as she began to focus more and more on the rhythm of the lively tune, steps and the way Lord Déorwine was leading began to make sense. She got a grip of herself and managed to somewhat catch up with him. He was a very good dancer and the longer it went on, the more she enjoyed it.

He insisted on having three entire dances with her until Lothíriel told him she simply could not go on dancing unless she had something to drink. Lord Déorwine quickly promised to go and get one for her, telling her to stay right there and wait for him. She lost sight of him almost at once.

It was hard to stay on spot, though. Crowd was moving about her, pushing or pulling her to one direction or the other. She felt hot in the middle of so many people, and soon enough she just let the stream of people guide herself, too.

Lothíriel tiptoed and looked around. There was no sight of Éomer anywhere, and Éowyn was missing as well. She recognised household members here and there, and an occasional noble she had seen around Meduseld. To her relief she eventually spotted Lady Scýne's shining red hair and began to make her way to the captain's wife.

Lady Scýne was conversing with Éowyn and a young man Lothíriel didn't recognise. There was certain similarity between the youth and the lady, not to mention red hair, that implied kinship. She surmised the young man had to be around her own age, if not a bit younger. He had a wiry sort of look, not the strong, broad-shouldered physicality of professional Riders. Perhaps he was not a trained soldier, she guessed.

"Lady Lothíriel! Come and meet my cousin Osgar from Eastemnet", Lady Scýne said and flashed a smile at her. Éowyn was smiling, too, though there was a thoughtful look in her bright eyes.

"Pleased to meet you, Osgar", Lothíriel greeted the young man. A blush spread across his freckled cheeks; she realised he had to be even younger than herself.

"And you, my lady", he muttered in embarrassment and looked down at his feet.

Quick introductions revealed Osgar was yet another young man who had recently inherited a seat he had not expected to receive: both his brothers had fallen in the Ring War, one in Helm's Deep and the other on Pelennor fields. Luckily for him, Marshal Elfhelm had recently taken him under his wing and was currently training the young man in Aldburg. No wonder he seemed so lost at times.

"Are you enjoying the Feast?" she asked him gently. Had the poor lad ever spoken to a woman who wasn't family? Then again, maybe it was just because she was a strange southern lady. And she – she surely had felt her own fair share of uncertainty when she had first met Éomer. Some people just were a lot to take in, especially if you had never met anyone like them before.

"It's wonderful, my lady", he said still in that same shy voice.

"My cousin is here at the King's Harvest Feast for the first time", Lady Scýne helpfully informed her. "I assume it's more or less different than in Stoningland?"

Some smooth small talk followed from that question, comparing the differences between two countries. Even Osgar opened up a little bit, and soon enough he and his cousin were bickering in Rohirric about some minor detail.

Éowyn seized the opportunity right away, leaning closer to Lothíriel.

"So, what have you not been telling me?" she asked in a lowered voice.

"What do you mean?" asked Lothíriel and looked at her friend in confusion. Éowyn raised her eyebrows.

"First you spend better part of the banquet speaking solely with Lord Déorwine, and then you go ahead and have three entire dances with him. Have you changed your mind about refusing all courting?" she asked. Her tone remained light enough to come across as teasing, rather than accusatory.

Lothíriel blushed. Well, she should have known to expect this, probably.

"Only because he won't let me out of his sight, if he can help it", she admitted. Then she hurried to add, "Don't understand me wrong. He's a fascinating man to be sure, and a lady would be only too quick to escape a complete bore."

Her friend nodded, like she had just confirmed something she had already suspected.

"Oh, he's charming all right. But he's also well known for his sympathies for Gondor. Yet now that his brother is gone, he's tied to his line's seat, more or less. How many ladies of Gondor have ties or interest to marry in Rohan, though? So you'll see how a kinswoman of Faramir, my future husband, would be quite the prize for Lord Déorwine", Éowyn spoke in a low voice.

The former part Lothíriel had already worked out, but the latter... now she felt foolish to have ignored it. Yes, she was well aware that the degree of attentions she was receiving from the man was hardly normal, but surely people knew by now she was not here to find a husband?

 _Might not stop some of them trying, though,_ she thought to herself and wryly mused what Lord Déorwine would say if she told him he too had a dash of that famous Rohirric wilfulness.

"Well, I won't be treated as a prize. I came to stay in Rohan for you, Éowyn, and I wish people would respect that", she said with a hint of exasperation and shook her head.

Éowyn's expression was strangely grave.

"I know that, Lothíriel, and I'm ever thankful for all your help. But if you want my advice, it is this: please consider the signals you give to those around you. It is the only way you can avoid causing confusion and... and perhaps heartbreak", she said, even more quiet than before.

Lothíriel shuddered, though she was not sure why.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here is a new chapter! I hope you all liked it. :)

It was fun writing this one and imagining what a feast would be like in Meduseld. But I also have to admit I took certain weird satisfaction in how oblivious Lothíriel is until she talks with Éowyn at the end of the chapter. She's young and not used to this kind of attention and so she doesn't know how to read or handle it. Just to be clear, her having such number of suitors doesn't mean they're all madly in love with her. Most of them so far are interested in making a political match with the daughter of a wealthy and powerful lord of Gondor, whereas Déorwine's interest in her stems from his Gondorian sympathies. As for Osgar at the end of the chapter, he's simply very young and gets easily flustered.

A couple of you have noted you'd like to get inside Éomer's head, and I thought about writing a chapter or scene from his POV. But it didn't seem like it'd fit in this story, which I see so much through Lothíriel's eyes. However, I have started to write a companion piece for this story and it will be entirely from Éomer's point of view. I won't be posting it until this is done, though, and it's not going to be a chapter-to-chapter equivalent. Instead, it's going to be a oneshot or, if it gets too long, two or three chapters max.

Thank you for reading and reviewing! If you got time, let me know what you think. Your comments are more useful to me than you know. :)

* * *

 **sai19 -** Yes, she really isn't aware yet of what's going on! But Éomer surely is quite important to her already.

 **Cricklewood16 -** Glad to hear the update was such a cause of excitement! :) I do hope you continue to enjoy the story!

 **EStrunk -** I hope this chapter offers some info at least between the lines about what he's thinking! But like I said in A/N, there will actually be a companion story eventually that will go in detail to his side of things. :)

Anyway, Lothíriel is indeed deep in denial at the moment! ;)

 **Lmelnk -** Thank you!

 **Jo -** You were talking about them going riding and seeing _mearas._ I really do like that idea!

 **Bell -** Thanks! Poor Lothíriel doesn't seem to know what's going on, though! ;)

 **Doranwen -** I'm happy to hear you liked it!

 **Boramir -** That is quite right! And Rohirrim being a warrior people, it's important for them that their king fulfills that role, too. But at the same time, it's a perpetual danger on the existence of the royal House due to his lack of an heir.

 **Wondereye -** I don't see what you mean by that. He certainly isn't amused, perhaps just a little uncertain how to address to her.

 **A -** Thank you!

 **Guest -** Thanks!

 **Anon -** I'm glad you liked it! It's my favourite part of last chapter, too. :) He has definitely become much more important to her than she herself realises yet.

I mean to explore that scene from Éomer's POV in the companion story, if not sooner. I think he has felt alone for so long, he really wants to find companionship and peace and just live his life as much as kingship allows it. But like you say, Lothíriel remains unassuming and unaware of her own potential. She's young indeed and hasn't quite grasped of what she's capable of as a woman and a lady.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Lothíriel's mood remained a little odd for the rest of the Feast. She couldn't quite get into the cheerful atmosphere that seemed to surround the rest of guests, but rather kept mulling over Éowyn's words... dare she call them a warning? Either way, when her friend spoke with such gravity, it was best to listen.

As such, when Lord Déorwine finally located her again in the crowd, Lothíriel politely refused his invitation to another dance. He seemed disappointed at first, but then conjured another one of his dashing smiles and brushed it off, like this was just what he had wanted. He remained in her vicinity, though, but this time Lothíriel made sure her attention was evenly divided between him and the rest of the company.

When she asked young Osgar to dance with her, she did notice the brief frown on Déorwine's features. Éowyn seemed to be quite correct indeed.

Osgar was not quite as nimble or skilled dancer as Lord Déorwine, but what he lacked in experience, he surely made up for in enthusiasm. His young face was flushed and bright as they moved in time with music, and when the song ended, Lothíriel had a feeling only his shyness prevented him from asking for another dance.

The atmosphere got more noisy the longer the evening went on. The crowd grew smaller, too, as parties less intent on feasting until dawn began to leave. But among the young folk there appeared to many who were determined to dance late into the night.

It was a pity she didn't get to have at least one dance with Éomer. Lady Scýne and Hild both insisted he was a very good partner. However, with his injuries it would be a while still before he could move without hindrance again. And in any case, he appeared so busy with guests, it was doubtful he'd be able to make it to the dance floor even if he was not recovering still. With the crowd around him, she couldn't even go and bid him a good night.

Lothíriel cast an uncertain look at him across the mass of people before she retired, but she was not able to catch his eyes.

She only hoped he'd get to have at least some rest tonight.

* * *

Next morning, breakfast was more quiet in the hall than normally. Here and there, Lothíriel spotted some pale, suffering faces, and conversations were carried on in hushed voices.

The hall itself looked as usual, though. Servants had already cleared away the signs of last night's celebration and not a single loose leaf from garlands could be found in the corners.

Éowyn and her brother were already seated at the King's table. She looked a little tired but also satisfied. The feast had run smoothly, no incidents had taken place, and guests had left Meduseld with smiles on their faces. But Éomer looked even more weary. Without his usual energetic and vigorous air, he seemed to somehow diminish. Lothíriel felt a pang of sympathy for the poor man. Last night must really have tried him.

Éowyn was eager to speak of last night's feast, but Éomer was mostly quiet. He kept his eyes on his breakfast and only said anything when prompted. It didn't take long for his sister to notice, and she was leaning closer to him, demanding to know if he had fever again. Soon enough he lost his patience with her – something Lothíriel had not seen before – and he snapped at his sister, telling her to leave him alone.

The White Lady fell silent, though Lothíriel was sure it was more due to surprise than because she was intimidated by his fit. In fact, it was hard to imagine what _could_ intimidate Éowyn of Rohan.

Be that as it may, they didn't speak much for the remainder of the meal. Close to the end of it, Éowyn looked straight at her friend.

"I have a few errands to run this morning, but later I should have time for a lesson. Would that suit you?" she asked.

"Of course. I'm here for you, not the other way around", Lothíriel said and smiled.

It was not yet afternoon that they sat down again in the Queen's solar. At first, Éowyn was a little absent-minded, but soon enough she shook off whatever was on her mind and they delved into the matter of noble houses of Gondor. Lothíriel had told her no one expected her to immediately understand the complicated ways houses were tied and allied to one another, but Éowyn had brushed it off dismissively. It appeared she was determined to make a lasting impression on the Gondorian society.

"No one expects me to fit in, you see", she said and a steely glint appeared in her eyes. "Half of them are just waiting for me to fail and disappoint Faramir. Not that he believes I will; I know he's not like that. But the fact is so many Gondorians see me as some kind of a wild warrior woman who will probably set my new husband's home on fire on the first night of our marriage. I know some of them think Faramir is marrying below his station."

"If that's what they think, then they're wrong", Lothíriel stated firmly. She frowned when she continued, "But I do understand why you feel the need to prove yourself. Indeed there are many in my land who put greatest value on bloodlines... thinking true nobility is based on whether or not you can trace your family back to someone who lived a thousand years ago. Myself, I think it's rather in what you do in your life, and how you do it. And in that regard, you are the last person in the world who needs to prove anything."

Éowyn smiled wryly.

"I only wish the rest of the society thought like you do. But alas, they hardly have your wisdom and so I must learn, if I mean to handle this. Not for myself, mind you – it's all for Faramir", she said fiercely. Lothíriel did not point out that Faramir would always be proud of her. To herself she thought of how lucky her cousin and Éowyn were, having found such love and companionship.

They spent a good few hours going over the family trees Lothíriel had drawn to help her friend memorise different Houses, until even she began to feel like her head was spinning. Perhaps one should not be so surprised at the amount of court intrigue that could take place over the course of three thousand years, but she still marvelled sometimes at how age-old alliances could have such bearing even today. Eventually they decided to take light lunch and put aside the intricate court history for a while.

They had just finished eating when there was a knock on the door and a servant entered. She curtsied – as much as Rohirrim ever did – and to both women's surprise, looked at Lothiriel rather than to Éowyn.

"My lady, Lord Déorwine is waiting in the hall. He is asking to speak with you", the servant announced.

Lothiriel exchanged an incredulous look with Éowyn. She raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

"Very well. Please tell him I'll be seeing him in a moment", said Lothíriel when she managed to shrug off her confusion. The servant curtsied again and left the solar.

Lothíriel looked at her friend. A small, cowardly part of her wished she could ask Éowyn to come along. But she was quick to dismiss such a ridiculous notion.

"What do you think he wants?" she asked a little awkwardly.

Éowyn sniffed.

"Well, I would imagine he has got some ideas since last night. Don't be surprised if he's going to propose to you, too", she said wryly.

Lothíriel groaned and rubbed her face.

"How lovely. I mustn't keep him waiting, then", she muttered and got up on her feet.

Lord Déorwine stood expecting for her in the hall, near to the twin doors. Well-dressed and hair neatly combed back behind his ears, he did not seem to be nursing a hangover after last night. It was strange to look at him. Partly one felt he didn't belong in this setting, and yet he was arrayed as any Rohirric lord.

"Good day, Lord Déorwine. I was told you wished to see me?" she greeted him and offered him a curtsy.

His face broke into a smile and he bowed.

"My lady Lothíriel, good day to you as well", he replied smoothly. "I do hope I'm not disturbing you. I simply wanted to talk, if it's manageable."

"Of course. What is the matter, my lord?" she asked him, though she was fairly sure Éowyn had it right. Still, she had to let him say it himself.

The young lord hesitated for a moment and clasped his hands tightly behind his back. She relaxed a little bit, seeing he was even more nervous than she had previously felt. He was a young, dashing lord, but she guessed he had not proposed to a lady before this.

"May I ask you to take a walk with me, my lady?" he inquired at length.

"You may, my lord. Let me just fetch my cloak", she answered and took a deep breath.

Five minutes later, they were strolling outside in faint sunlight of a grey day. Hild and a pair of Lothíriel's accompanying Swan Knights had come as chaperones, but they kept their distance, allowing moderate privacy.

As she walked, she wondered if she should say something, or let him break the silence. He was the one who had wanted to talk, after all.

Lord Déorwine cleared his throat and from the corner of her eye, she saw him glancing at her.

"My lady, I must say I truly enjoyed myself last night. It was a wonderful feast indeed", he began at last. So, it was going to be small talk first. She couldn't say it was what she'd expect of a Rohir, but on the other hand, Lord Déorwine was not like most Rohirrim she had met so far. She imagined to herself how Éomer would proceed if he were to propose to a lady; it didn't seem like he'd waste much time before getting to the point. When he opened up, he spoke so honestly and truly, and the way his eyes would shine... instinctively she knew that the woman he married would be the luckiest lady in the world.

Lothíriel shook her head and felt a little like she had been caught doing something forbidden. It was a completely inappropriate thing for her to consider, especially when she was fully expecting another man to make his proposal. And what did she know of what Éomer would do? She ought to be ashamed!

"Yes, it was quite night. I enjoyed it very much. My brother Amrothos did not exaggerate when he said Rohirrim know how to have a good time", she conceded and gave him a smile. How the expression came out looking genuine, she wasn't certain.

Lord Déorwine blinked.

"Indeed? That is surprising to hear", he stated.

"How so?" she asked and looked at him, feeling perplexed at his words.

He hesitated for a moment before saying anything. But she kept her eyes fixed on him. He would have to answer her, now that he had made such a strange comment.

"My lady, I mean no disrespect", he said at length. "I just feel... well, I hadn't thought that a fine, sophisticated lady like yourself would enjoy herself among Rohirrim."

His tone was delicate, like he was afraid of insulting her somehow. But Lothíriel shifted her gaze ahead and tried to think of how to respond. For someone who idealised Gondor, he surely seemed to have a fairly simplistic impression of her and her people. On the other hand, perhaps that was the very reason for his misunderstanding.

"I must say, I don't think sophistication and enjoying life as Rohirrim do are mutually exclusive", she said at length and stared ahead. "And one is not always better than the other. Sophistication can easily turn into a pretentious attitude. But here in Rohan people are open and genuine, and I don't need to doubt whether or not they really are my friends. And even your king is spoken of as a decent, honest man. It's something to admire, I think."

To her surprise, Lord Déorwine grimaced a little bit.

"That may be true. Yet from the start I've thought that the King is such an Eorling", he said in low tones. "So bold and straightforward and lacking in finesse. I wonder if he has ever had one higher sort of thought in his life."

Lothíriel bit the insides of her cheeks and clasped her hands together tightly. She felt offended in Éomer's behalf. To have such criticism spoken of him when he couldn't defend himself, and knowing that it could only stem from the fact that Déorwine didn't know his ruler very well. But how could she tell him of what she had seen in Éomer when no one else was about? She must choose her words carefully, and she was still doing that when her companion began to speak again.

"Don't get me wrong, I do not mean to speak ill of him. He's just the kind of man Rohan needs right now – someone with ox's strength and obstinacy to pull us through this time. But it's clear he will prefer the old ways, instead of looking to where the true light shines in Minas Tirith of Gondor", Déorwine said heatedly. He didn't even use the names Rohirrim had for the White City and Gondor. The implications of his statement could not be clearer.

He sighed and added, "A pity, really. I understand he's very good friends with King Elessar. I think that relationship could be used for much good."

"Well, there is no reason that it can't be. They are brothers in arms, my king and yours, and my brothers are always telling me how that bond can transcend many boundaries. And perhaps we now live in a time when we need less politics and more just... friendship and love and loyalty", she said, and her voice grew a bit more heated than she had first meant.

Lord Déorwine blinked again and she wondered if she had said too much. However, it wasn't like she didn't mean every word, and perhaps this man could use a different perspective.

"Be that as it may", he said eventually, sounding slightly less forceful, "I didn't mean to talk with you only to debate politics, however entertaining it could be. I... hoped to discuss a more personal matter, if possible."

She took a deep breath. Here it came, then.

"What is it, my lord?" she asked him as neutrally as she could.

Lord Déorwine halted and turned fully to face her. She stopped, too, wishing the moment had already passed.

"I am aware you are not accepting proposals, my lady, and I know it is bold of me to approach you in this way... still, your grace and sophistication quite impressed me last night, and I would be doing myself a severe disservice if I didn't at least ask you. My lady Lothíriel, it would be the greatest honour if you allowed me to court you during your time here in Rohan", he said, solemn and ceremonial, and then gave her a bow.

She suppressed a sigh. She really didn't want to disappoint him, but to let him court her would be dishonest and cruel. And she couldn't allow such distractions while Éowyn had need of her.

"My lord, your regard flatters me as does your request. However, I must respectfully decline. I have duty to the Lady Éowyn at least until her wedding and I cannot accept any offers without my father's blessing. I'm sorry", she replied, hoping her smile was a consoling one.

"But surely the White Lady doesn't have need of you all day and night? Aren't you allowed a little bit of your own space? I was under the impression Prince Imrahil is a fairly liberal lord", Lord Déorwine insisted, though his voice remained pleasant.

"No, I'm not chained to Éowyn by my wrist, my lord", Lothíriel replied in firmer tones than before. "But I just don't feel like it would be appropriate for me courting at the time. Not to mention, I simply couldn't agree to it so soon after first meeting you, my lord. As for my father, I respect him too well to begin courtship without him knowing. It is a matter of politics, too, for he wields certain position in the high society of our homeland, and I must remain free to do my duty for Gondor."

The Rohir's face fell and he turned away, perhaps to mask his disappointment. She felt an abrupt wave of sympathy for him. With his dashing appearance and charming manners, it was easy to forget how young Déorwine was. He had no ambition for ruling and yet he was saddled with the burden of his line's seat and all the duties that came with it. From Éomer's words, she knew all too well how lonely such a life could be.

"I'm sorry to hear that, my lady. But I do apologise for being so forward. I should have known better", he said quietly and still looked away from her.

"It's all right, my lord. I do appreciate your honesty", she said gently.

Lord Déorwine let out a small sigh and cast her a sad little smile.

"At least, tell me if it would be fine for me to call on you whenever I'm in Edoras, my lady?" he inquired her softly.

"Of course it's fine. I don't mean to imply that your friendship isn't welcome", she said and curtsied. At least Déorwine seemed to be taking her rejection fairly well.

Even then, she still had bit of a bitter taste in her mouth. Had her actions last night encouraged him to this? If so, she could only blame herself.

* * *

Éowyn was still in the Queen's solar when Lothíriel joined her, poring over a pile of letters. She put aside her quill when the younger woman groaned and collapsed in a chair.

"Well, how did it go?" she asked mildly.

"As well as could be expected", Lothíriel said and rubbed her face in frustration. "I'm such a fool, aren't I? I should have been more careful last night. How could I be so stupid?"

Her friend's eyes were soft and understanding.

"You are young and all this is quite new to you. I admit I was not any more knowledgeable about men at your age, and I suspect never would have managed well with them... let's just say I'm lucky to have found Faramir", she said wryly, though at the mention of her bridegroom's name, her eyes shined.

"It seems so obvious now. How naive do you even have to be to act like I did?" Lothíriel groaned, wanting to hide under the table and never emerge again.

"Hush now. You make it sound like something much more serious happened. All you did was enjoy a dashing lord's company and dance with him. That is every young lady's right, I think", Éowyn said, sounding tranquil as ever.

"Still, I should know better. It's just... noble lords never paid me any attention back home, and even if they did, all three of my brothers would probably have been hideous about it. Furthermore, it's not like there were many court functions when I was growing up. But here I'm getting proposals from left and right, and yet at the same time I'm not sure about the rules you have in Rohan... some of your men are so different from what I'm used to, and then there's that Lord Déorwine who's such a confusing mix of both Gondor and Rohan!" Lothíriel went on ranting in frustration. Thankfully, Éowyn listened to her in patience.

"Mostly I think you've done very well, my friend. You have kept your dignity despite the offers. Anyone would be a little overwhelmed in a foreign court, and I can well understand that our menfolk can be... much to take in, so to speak. I know I would be terrified if you weren't helping me", she said calmly and leant back in her chair.

"Terrified, you?" Lothíriel said in wonder. Her friend let out a soft laugh.

"We are all afraid of something", Éowyn merely said and made a dismissive gesture with her hand. hand. She considered Lothíriel with serious eyes, "In any case, I'm glad you paid heed to what I said last night."

"Your opinion means great deal to me, Éowyn, and you know Rohan unlike I do. It's only smart to listen to your advice", Lothíriel said and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Her friend considered her in silence for a moment. Her blue eyes had a strange, thoughtful look.

"Say, just for curiosity's sake, though you don't have to answer if you don't want to – there isn't a man here who has caught your eye?" she asked softly.

Lothíriel's cheeks grew hot at once.

"I haven't thought about it", she replied quickly. "And even if there was someone, it wouldn't be appropriate in the slightest for me to pursue a romance."

Éowyn made a strange sound at the back of her throat.

"You know, I really wouldn't mind it if you did find someone you like. Sometimes I think you may be a little too proper for your own good, Lothíriel", she said firmly.

For whatever reason, Éowyn's words did not sound as much a joke as Lothíriel would have thought.

* * *

The news arrived two days after Harvest Feast.

A Rider sped from the western fields like a tempest, hastening through the street of Edoras as though all forces of Mordor were after him. His arrival was heard in the hall even before he entered. Exclamations rose and then the twin doors were pushed open, much like the day when Éomer had returned injured.

Éowyn had been talking with a family who had travelled here for the feast and were now preparing for the journey home, and Lothíriel had joined them to practice her Rohirric. Éomer was in the hall as well, deep in conversation with a few of his advisers. Both interactions came to an abrupt end when noise grew outside and the Rider strode inside.

"Sire! Urgent news from the West-Mark!" he exclaimed as he made his way across the hall.

Éowyn quickly excused herself, promising to carry on the conversation with the departing guests shortly, and then followed the messenger to her brother. Lothíriel did so too. Judging by the Rider's noisy arrival, this was not something meant solely for the King's ears.

He was already talking when the two women got to where Éomer was standing. A few words here and there were lost to Lothíriel, but she understood enough for the horrifying picture to form in her mind. On the night of the Harvest Feast, when most of Rohan was celebrating, a band of orcs, seemingly remnants of the horde King and his Riders had recently fought, had slipped past scouts and entered the camp of King's own emissaries, whom he had sent to bring aid and provisions to the folk of Westfold. Some of the emissaries had been killed and most of the provisions they had meant to distribute to people in order to help them get through the winter had either been stolen or burned. In other words, the already ravaged Westfold was now facing famine.

A tremor and a gasp went through all those who were close enough to hear. Lothíriel covered her own mouth in horror and looked at Éomer. Surely he'd know what to do?

His face was stony and grim. For a while he didn't say anything, until at last he moved sharply.

"Summon my council immediately", he simply said in a loud voice and gestured the messenger to follow him. Then he turned and headed for the council chamber as quickly as his still healing injuries allowed. Éowyn went with him.

Lothíriel would dearly have liked to accompany them, but she had no business joining the emergency meeting of the King of Rohan and his council. All she could do was wait, and perhaps interrogate Éowyn some time later.

Almost two hours went by before her friend emerged again. Éowyn's face was very pale and concern rested heavily on her shoulders. The signs could not be more clear: the situation was a grave one.

Lothíriel hastened to her friend. She had spent the time in deep anxiety, wondering just how bad it could be. She knew King Elessar had already sent provisions to help Rohan, and most of those goods had now been destroyed. But Gondor had suffered in the war, too. Could they respond to this new crisis?

Meanwhile, summer in Dol Amroth had been plentiful...

"How bad is it?" she asked Éowyn.

Her friend sighed heavily.

"We are not sure yet. Éomer would go himself and find out, but he's still recovering. He's sending Riders to villages and towns of the East-Mark to find out if they can help at all. But we are not very hopeful. Their own resources are already spread thin, and further requests of aid won't be well-received. On the other hand, we don't know how much more King Elessar can help", Éowyn answered. Then suddenly she let out a strange sound, full of frustration and anger. Ever since Lothíriel had come here, she had not seen this strong, resilient woman looking so uncertain.

"Truth is, Lothíriel", Éowyn said quietly, "I don't know how we are going to fix this."

Not knowing what else she could do, Lothíriel reached her arms around the shoulders of her friend.

"It will be all right", she murmured, though she knew that could very well be untrue.

The mood in the Hall did not much improve for the rest of the day and evening. Small groups of people gathered here and there, speaking in hushed tones. Worry and dread was etched on most of the faces one would see there. Éomer was nowhere to be seen; Éowyn reported he was holed up in his study, going over ledgers and reports in the hopes of finding some resource that was still possible to use.

Lothíriel retired early. There was only so much one could take of the morose atmosphere, and she needed some space to think.

Sitting before her small writing desk, she let out a deep breath. What could she do to help?

She thought of what her father would do, and then groaned out loud. Dol Amroth famously commanded some of the most fertile and prosperous lands in all of Gondor and it had access to the gifts of the sea. Even in more trying times, people of Belfalas were normally well fed. And last summer had indeed seen veritable opulence on the fields, farms and orchards.

Yes, she could write to her father. But would he understand the gravity of this situation? He had no obligation to help, unless King Elessar told him so. And all of that would take weeks of time while the crisis deepened in Rohan. It was so frustrating! Why couldn't she have her father's power and wealth at her disposal?

But then she remembered: she did have some money for her personal use. Every year, Father gave her an allowance for her expenses. She had always tried to be prudent with it, and put some of it away to save in case of emergency, or well, this exact situation. Obviously the sum wouldn't be enough to save all of Rohan, but maybe she could still fill a few hungry bellies. Yes, it would burn through her savings, but she couldn't think of a better use.

She could help indeed, after all.

Encouraged by her idea, she grabbed a piece of parchment to write, and so began to compose a letter for her father's secretary.

Lothíriel sent a Rider on his way that very same evening, asking him to travel as fast as possible. It would take many days for the message to reach Dol Amroth, and then some more before the provisions would arrive in Edoras. Hopefully, Rohan's own storages could feed the hungry until then.

With an anxious heart she watched the Rider as he quickly made ready for the road. She had also given him a letter to her father so that he wouldn't wonder why a Rohirric Rider would arrive in Dol Amroth. There was a chance he'd interfere and even forbid his secretary from following her instructions, but she did not think it was likely. Her father was not blind or deaf to the distress of people.

When the Rider mounted his horse and began his journey down the road, Lothíriel sent her prayers with him: _Ride swift and safe under Béma's eyes._

Asking around in the hall, she found out soon enough that the King and the White Lady were still holed up in the royal study. She headed there, thinking of how to tell her friends about the measures she had taken to help their people. However at the door of the royal study, she heard voices speaking loudly inside, and she halted to hesitate. It sounded important and she wondered if they might not appreciate an interruption.

She took a deep breath and knocked. Seconds later, Éomer's voice called her inside.

It was a beautiful room, as rooms ever were in Meduseld. Wooden furniture had that same expert touch of a skilled carpenter as was now familiar to her. The royal banner was hanging behind the desk and on its both sides there were shelves, filled with scrolls and even some books. The desk was covered with bits and pieces of parchments.

In addition to the King and his sister, Captain Éothain and a few members of the King's Council were present. They all stared at her, Éomer looking perhaps most surprised of them. Lothíriel felt heat spread across her cheeks, but she forced her mouth open.

However, she did not get an opportunity to say anything. One of the advisers had already lost his patience and he was saying something in Rohirric to Éomer, who frowned and turned to look at him. Lothíriel lost what little courage she had been able to summon.

Éowyn came to her. Her face was weary and stressed, but she still managed to smile a little bit.

"What is it, my friend? Is everything all right?" she asked her.

"I was just..." Lothíriel began in a strained voice and tried to swallow the lump that had somehow appeared in her throat. "I was worried."

Why was it so hard to speak now? She had thought her idea was a good one, so shouldn't she be happy to share it? On the other hand, what voice did she, a foreigner, have in this place?

Éowyn reached a gentle hand to her shoulder, like she was the one in the need of consolation.

"No need to be. We'll figure this out, somehow", Éowyn reassured her.

"Is there anything I can do?" Lothíriel asked softly. Her question brought another smile to her friend's features.

"Truly, this is not for you to worry about, Lothíriel. Don't think your concern isn't appreciated, though. At any rate, we need more information before we can act effectively", Éowyn told her.

Still she hesitated, but then Éomer spoke.

"There's nothing more we can do tonight. We'll continue in the morning, my lords, when we are all rested and hopefully have clearer heads. Go to your homes and families. You too, Éothain", he said to all present. He sounded tired, but there was underlying firmness to his voice. Lothíriel suppressed a sigh, knowing her moment had now truly passed.

One by one, King's advisers left the royal study. Éothain went last before Éowyn, who uttered something about getting some tea for them.

Éomer had been staring at a map spread on the desk, but quickly enough he realised he was not yet alone. He looked up at Lothíriel.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you. It's... it has been quite a day", she said carefully.

Her words made his expression twitch.

"Indeed. I feel like I'm stuck in a nightmare that will not end", he said in a low, tired voice. He let out a sigh and straightened himself. "Truth is, I don't know how to make this right. I'm not sure if Aragorn can give any more aid. And I feel like I'm failing. I haven't been a king for a full year and my kingdom is already falling apart."

"Nothing is falling apart", she told him steadily. "You'll find a way."

Éomer said nothing. He looked so alone, so burdened, that she couldn't stand it. And she couldn't do anything more to help. But then she remembered what it was like back in Dol Amroth when there wasn't anything substantial she could do to help her family: she could always at least hug them. So she just walked over to him and gently wrapped both her arms about him, as if that way she could somehow share in carrying the weight on his shoulders.

He remained still for a moment, but at last his own arms, strong and heavy, wound around her. She more felt than heard him letting out a deep, weary sigh, and then his form relaxed.

For the longest time, neither of them spoke or moved. He didn't seem intent on ending the embrace, and if it helped him, then how could she pull away? So she simply focused on breathing, hoping that the calm she felt then would also flow into him. Poor, brave man. How wrong Déorwine was about him! Sometimes she wondered if people even knew how very good this young king truly was.

Éomer still stood like he had simply forgotten about time. But the longer it went on, the more aware she became of him. How strong and solid his form, the warmth of his body, and the rich, musky smell of him... it was then she knew she had to put some distance between them again.

Feeling her to start pulling back, Éomer let his own hands fall on his sides. Even so, he didn't look so tense anymore.

"I... I think I needed that", he said softly and regarded her with more peaceful eyes than before. "Thank you."

"You are welcome", Lothíriel answered. Her mouth was dry and her hands felt unsteady, but she was able to smile.

Éowyn returned at that point, putting an end to this strange, charged moment. Lothíriel lowered her eyes, bid them good night, and quietly made her way out.

When she was in her bedroom, she let out a deep breath and faced the thought that had been trying to emerge since the moment his arms had come around her.

Perhaps, it could be, and just maybe: she was possibly a little bit in love with him.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here is a new chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. I know I did. :)

I imagine it's an interesting read for you if you have taken a look at _Walk With Me In Winter._ Lothíriel has now made the observation she maybe has some feelings for Éomer, but we'll see how that impacts her further actions. At least, her youth and inexperience very much cause her not to be able to tell her friends about the letter she sent to Dol Amroth. She's not used to taking that kind of a role, so she doesn't have a good grasp (or courage) on how to present it. And after all, Rohan is a different kind of society than what she's used to.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Wtiger5 -** While he may be all those things, Déorwine is also a fairly young man, and I think he feels quite lost in his position. I think Lothíriel may be the only one in the trio who perceives that! ;)

 **frank . kilgenschmidt** \- I do get the frustration of reading an in-progress story, but from the writer's point of view, people who read and comment on it during the publishing are the best, because they have usually great insights to the story, and more than once someone's review has caused me to rewrite some parts and even reconsider some plot twist. So it's great that you are reading now, even if the story isn't finished! I'm glad you liked it. :)

 **Catspector -** Thanks! Happy to hear you liked it!

 **Anon -** I definitely think Éowyn's experiences (and maybe her friendship with Lothíriel) have taught her wisdom and kindness. And it's a mutually trustful relationship, so she finds it fairly easy to advise her friend.

 **sai19 -** There are mixed emotions on both sides, so we'll see how that will go!

 **Moira McGregor -** Thank you!

 **EStrunk -** Yes, he was probably quite peeved about that! But I think after the War of the Ring, a lot of people were saddled with duties they didn't expect to have. It's interesting angle to explore.

 **coecoe11 -** Thanks! I'm glad you liked it. :)

 **Cricklewood16 -** Thank you! :)

 **Doranwen -** It's really quite fun to write, too! Something's building up there, indeed. And perhaps she's not as oblivious anymore. ;)

 **Bell -** Oh, she can be naive, but she has a pair of ears. And Éowyn's insight is something she takes very seriously.

 **QueenLiVII -** Turns out the girl doesn't need a shake, she just needed a hug! ;D But yes, she was being oblivious, because like she tells Éowyn, this is not a situation she has experienced before.

 **Wondereye -** Glad to hear you think so!

 **lovelykxz -** Thank you for your lovely comment! I'm flattered to hear you think this story is on par with Tolkien's own writing. I can't say much about _mearas_ at the moment, but we'll see if they'll be back to impact things further!

 **Jo -** Poor man is really not having very good time!

 **Menelwen -** I'm glad you're back to reviewing, though! I think you are quite right - she's not used to this kind of attention and Rohan's society is still unfamiliar to her. But she's learning as she goes along!


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Something weird happened when I was updating the story, messing it so that instead of the new chapter there was the duplicate of last one. Somehow I couldn't switch it in the management settings, so I tried deleting it which resulted in two chapters disappearing instead of one! Either this site is really weird for me today, or I should not be updating stories while half-asleep. Anyway, I'm sorry for any unnecessary e-mail alerts and such you may have received!

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Lothíriel did not sleep very well the following night. Not only were the dire news from Westfold on her mind, but she was also mulling over the realisation that had come to her after she had left the royal study.

She had feelings for the King of Rohan. And how could she not? He was warm and genuine and honest, and he never treated her with the arrogance his rank might induce in other men. She knew how brave and decent and caring he was, always concerned about the well-being of his sister and his people. He could be proud but not conceited and he viewed his position with a kind of humility that a born royal could never possess. Sometimes she could even make him laugh and she found she liked those instances. And truth was, his wild northern looks attracted her more than she should admit to, being a well-bred lady of south.

What a hopeless, hopeless thing.

She would be wise to get rid of these fanciful notions, and do it quickly. There was no way he would ever respond to those feelings, because she was too young and naive and a Gondorian on the top of everything. Lord Déorwine had called him _"such an Eorling",_ and she assumed it also meant that southern women couldn't compete with Rohan's Shieldmaidens in his eyes. If Éomer felt anything for her, most likely it was some kind of brotherly affection, no different from his bond with Éowyn. Not to mention, Lothíriel expected that her harping about having no interest in courtship at the moment would further discourage him from seeing her in the way she'd like him to. And if she were ever to speak to him of these feelings, it would likely ruin the friendship that had grown between them, and make the rest of her stay sheer agony.

All she could do was keep it to herself and wait for spring. In time, this infatuation would burn out on its own. Even so, she wondered if she'd ever meet anyone like him again. And the thought depressed her more than she could have guessed.

Her downcast mood did not much stand out in following days, though. The urgent news from West-Mark were omnipresent, overshadowing almost every conversation. It was odd compared to the usual lively bustle of the capital. Even Éowyn was so distracted that she didn't realise her friend's mood was not just because of the threat of famine.

In the middle of this sombre atmosphere, she tried to think of how to tell her friends about the message she had sent to Dol Amroth. However, she simply couldn't get a chance. Of Éomer she saw little during these days, and when she did, he was always surrounded by a few of his advisers and messengers and nobles from the West-Mark. He seemed irate, too, and she wasn't sure of how to approach him when he was in this frame of mind. As for Éowyn, every time Lothíriel tried to start to talk about the current issue, her friend quickly told her she needn't worry about it and changed the topic. While their friendship was normally quite transparent and Éowyn was quick to understand her meaning even when she didn't speak it directly, this time the White Lady seemed completely oblivious to what Lothíriel was trying to tell her.

Eventually, she simply gave up. The right moment never arrived and she could not find a way to tell her friends. She had not meant her efforts to help be a surprise, but her indecision and hesitating had now made it into one. But even back in Dol Amroth, she had never tried to take an active role in events – and so she had not realised the doubt that came with choosing to act. Suddenly she felt like she knew a little bit of what Éomer had felt when he had become king.

Even so, she often searched the plains with her eyes and hoped to see riders with wagons approaching Edoras, even though she knew it would take weeks before any shipment might arrive.

Lord Déorwine paid a another visit to Edoras almost two weeks after the Harvest Feast. His folk in Harrowdale were better off than most people in Westfold, but he too had received queries from the King's Council on whether he could give some aid in providing for the families facing starvation. His expression was tight as he briefly met her in the hall, but then he flashed her one of his dashing smiles and insisted they meet again when his business with the King was finished. She agreed to it, though she did not forget Éowyn's warning. Not to mention, now that she was aware of her feelings for Éomer, the idea of being courted by other men was even less appealing to her than before.

After he was done, they took again a walk outside. Déorwine did not make any propositions this time, but he was endlessly curious about life in Gondor. It seemed no amount of answers satisfied him; rather, his questions about her homeland only grew in number.

Yet the more they spoke, the more she felt like neither of them really understood each other. Lord Déorwine was always courteous and charming, but she felt nothing but general benevolence when she looked at him. There was no concern for his well-being, no need to reach her hand to touch his or lean against him for a little bit. The closeness of his body did not send shivers down her spine. When spoke of himself and revealed even some personal issues, she felt like it was not entirely natural. He lacked a certain sincerity that another man had so deeply and fully expressed to her and after that, Déorwine simply couldn't compare. And she did not think for a single moment that he had feelings for her, except for what she represented.

Upon their return to Meduseld, Lord Déorwine asked her if he might join her at dinner. However, she had to respectfully decline: earlier this same day, Éowyn had suggested having dinner with her brother again. Many days had passed without them getting together for a meal.

Déorwine looked disappointed at first, but then he bowed and promised to call on her the next day before he rode back home. She smiled and bid him a pleasant evening.

* * *

Éowyn had not yet arrived when Lothíriel entered the King's rooms. Éomer was there, though, slumped in one of the arm chairs and resting his head in the cup of his hand. His eyes were closed and at first she thought he might be sleeping. But he stirred when he heard her steps and looked up at her with tired eyes. Her throat felt tight when she saw the shadows under them. Yet she was still glad to see him.

"Hello", she greeted him softly. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm just tired, is all", he said and conjured a small smile as he gestured her to sit while they waited for Éowyn. She shivered when she thought of the hours he must be working.

Lothíriel took seat and thought of asking what was on his mind. She quickly decided against it, because she wanted him to relax and think about something else for a little while. This gave her an idea and she looked at him cautiously.

"I know how terribly busy you are", she started unsurely as she clasped her hands in her lap, "but do you think we could go riding tomorrow?"

He blinked, like her proposal was the last thing he'd expect her to say. Even so, he straightened a bit on his seat.

"Why not?" Éomer said at length. "I have been wanting to get out, after all."

He raked a hand through his hair and some of weariness passed from his eyes. He looked straight at her and asked, "Do you often ride back in Dol Amroth?"

"Not as much as here, perhaps", she admitted. "I do enjoy it, though. I like it best at sunset, when we are racing in the surf and the sky is ablaze... you get so soaked in sea-spray, but I love it."

"It sounds wonderful", he said softly, and she instantly got vivid mental pictures of riding with him on the beach. She imagined Firefoot's powerful form ploughing through the waves and his master laughing as they raced, his clothes wet from the spray and his hair shining like spun gold in the sun, as if he were some creature of myth rising from the sea...

Her heart ached. It really was not wise to indulge herself with such daydreams.

"You should come and visit us some time", she said now, pushing away the dangerous imaginations from her mind.

A slight smile appeared on his features.

"Your father has invited me, too. And I would like to see Dol Amroth. Perhaps next summer things will be a little easier here and I can make the trip", he said. He was leaning back in the chair and looking a bit more relaxed, much to her satisfaction.

"You should. Dol Amroth is truly lovely in summer", she told him and tried not to sound overly excited. Still, warm glint appeared in Éomer's eyes, like he knew exactly how she felt. She liked how it made them look, crinkling slightly at corners; he often smiled more with his eyes than his mouth.

The conversation came to an end as Éowyn entered. She too had a worn look about her these days, though not quite as bad as Éomer. She still smiled when she saw her brother and her friend.

"I'm sorry I'm late", she said as servants carrying food followed behind her. "Let's eat!"

The meal was quite simple tonight. Lothíriel knew Éomer had given orders to send all that could be spared from Edoras' storages and granaries to replace the lost goods. It meant tightening belts even here in capital, but on the other hand, it was setting a strong example. The King was not going to spend his winter in plenty if his people were suffering.

"I imagine this is not up to your standards", Éowyn said apologetically when they began to eat. "But we all must make our efforts. I don't suppose it was hard for Éomer, though. He's used to soldier's rations."

She cast a fond look at her brother, who scoffed softly.

"Do you ever miss it?" Lothíriel asked him. She knew he had served a long time in éoreds, and not just as Marshal.

"I surely do. It was a simpler time in many regards. But I always knew it wouldn't last", he answered and a dark look passed across his face.

"How so?" Lothíriel wanted to know.

"As soon as Uncle took us in, he began to train me for a Marshal's position. So I always knew what was coming eventually. But he also wanted me to serve as an ordinary Rider in the start. It's part of how we train... everyone begins at the bottom", Éomer answered and took a sip of ale.

"Lords of Aldburg, our father's line, have served as captains and Marshals since Brego ruled", Éowyn put in.

"Did you ever want to do anything else?" Lothíriel asked carefully. Truthfully, she couldn't really imagine Éomer running a stable or working on fields. But perhaps that was just because she was so used to his warrior's gait and name as a mighty swordsman. And yet... looking at him one just knew he had been born for a greater fate. It was something both of Éomund's children shared.

"Not really. As a child, I wanted to become like my father. And after he and our mother died, I was consumed with the idea of getting some kind of vengeance. There was... there really couldn't be any thought of peace", he said gravely.

A brief silence followed. Lothíriel exchanged a look with Éowyn and felt like they were in silent agreement. It was time to change the topic to something lighter.

"As a child, I used to dream of sneaking off to some ship in our harbour and sailing the world. Of course, that could never happen. But my brothers did teach me to sail these little boats we have. To this day, I can still beat them in boat races. I think it's a lasting regret of Erchirion's life", said Lothíriel, smiling as she spoke of her mariner brother. He could get so competitive, especially about sailing.

Éomer and Éowyn both laughed, visibly relaxing in this change to an easier mood.

"Do you get homesick for the sea?" asked Éowyn.

"Some days. But it will be there waiting for me when I go home", Lothíriel answered. With that thought, her own mind grew more serious. Before some recent events, she would never have imagined she could live her life away from sea. But glancing quickly at the golden-haired man opposite her, she suddenly knew that for the right reason, one could do anything. Even move to a different country.

Perhaps now she understood Éowyn in a way unlike ever before.

"Faramir and I will come visit you when we can", Éowyn said, unaware of her friend's musings. "It's going to be pure madness at first, I think. He's busy preparing our new home in Ithilien, but it might not be finished before the wedding, and the land is empty and dangerous. There is so much work waiting for us. Thankfully, it's not a long way from Emyn Arnen to Dol Amroth, especially if you travel by the river."

She spoke excitedly and her eyes were shining. How eager for future she was! No matter what hardships Éowyn had before her, she would be facing them without fear.

"It's a relief, knowing you intend to take the madness with you when you go, sister", Éomer quipped. His eyes glinted in gentle amusement.

Éowyn snorted loudly and slapped his wrist.

"My brother thinks very highly of his sense of humour, as you can probably tell", she commented to Lothíriel, as though he could not hear them.

"As far as I'm aware, it's something that afflicts all older brothers. I should know, I have three of them", she said and flashed a sweet smile at Éomer. He tilted his head.

"Your family life must have been rather noisy. But was it difficult, being the only girl?" Éowyn wanted to know. Her family had consisted of men after the death of her mother, so she probably knew a lot about what it was like.

"Sometimes. There's no doubt they've always loved me dearly, spoiled me even as the only girl and the youngest child. But there were moments I felt alone and left out when they were talking about their battle training and campaigns and whatnot. Meanwhile, I had my own issues that I couldn't share with my brothers. I had my aunt Ivriniel, but she wasn't often at my father's court", Lothíriel replied, thinking back to the years of her childhood. When she glanced at Éomer, she saw a frown deepening on his face. She guessed he was thinking again about his sister's predicament before and during the war, and swiftly she continued, "But you are right, life with my family can also be described as madness. Elphir was always the dutiful one, but the rest of us, even Erchirion, could be quite mischievous."

"Truly? Erchirion seems so solemn always", Éomer said now. His expression had softened a little bit.

"Often he does. But if he and Amrothos get together..." Lothíriel said and shook her head as her voice trailed off.

Both her friends snorted in laughter.

"That, I can believe", Éomer commented wryly.

"You miss them, don't you?" asked Éowyn in soft, gentle tones.

"I do", Lothíriel admitted. Saying it out loud, her throat began to feel tight. Yet truth was, past few days she had not been thinking about home so much. Yes, her family was on her mind daily, but there was something here – someone in this very room – that rather distracted her from missing her father and brothers in the measure she might have expected.

She saw him looking down at his food and there was something dejected about his expression. Was all this talk about families making him think about the looming separation from his sister? Tightness grew in her throat and reached down deep in her chest. How alone he would be then! Everybody he loved would be gone, and he was left here to bear his burdens without anyone by his side...

But it was not her concern and there was nothing she could do. Her worrying so much about him already crossed a line as it was. Still, was it really wrong to just want him to be happy? She just wanted to know he'd be all right when both her and Éowyn had left Rohan.

These thoughts were still close to her mind when they finished eating and rose from the table. Éowyn was talking to a servant, but Lothíriel turned to look at Éomer, who stood at the side. Somehow he seemed a little lost.

Quietly she crossed the space between them. This time, when she wrapped arms about him, he did not stand still for very long. He was as warm and solid as she remembered, his smell just as inviting. Deep down, she knew it was not smart for her to get so close to him. She shouldn't give herself a taste of what could never be hers. And yet...it just was something you did for someone you cared about, especially when you wanted to be there for them and comfort them. With her own family, she had so often seen how a simple gentle touch could calm a troubled heart.

Would that _his_ would calm _hers_. In another life, it probably would. But not here, not now; unrequited love could only grow more fierce from the scraps thrown at it.

"Good night", Lothíriel whispered and pulled back again. She hoped her face did not show the desperation that had suddenly come to her. As for him, there was an expression on his features that she could not read.

"Good night", Éomer echoed and folded his hands behind his back.

Éowyn's eyes were on her when they had left the royal chambers, but she didn't speak until they were alone in the corridor.

"I admit, it was surprising to see you hug Éomer", she commented. She rarely sounded so wary when they were talking, even if the subject was delicate.

Lothíriel shrugged dismissively. It would be embarrassing to let Éowyn know about her feelings for Éomer, and her friend might feel like it put her in an awkward position. And after all, what was wrong about a hug between friends? She could have that much even if she loved him.

"Well, I'm always hugging my brothers", she said, perhaps a little defensively.

Éowyn's eyes were keen and discerning.

"That may be so. But my brother hugs nobody", she noted seriously.

Lothíriel thought of saying he was probably just being polite and enduring it, or she could even have explained what had happened last night in the study, but then began to feel like Éowyn would take it as an excuse.

"Maybe he just felt alone", she finally uttered.

Éowyn's expression grew solemn.

"That", she said quietly, "Is probably true."

* * *

The next day was a bit chilly but the sun was shining. Lothíriel picked warm clothes as she was not certain how long they would be out riding. Knowing it was a rare chance Éomer was able to get out at this time, she didn't want to ruin it by getting cold.

She met him at the stables, where their horses were being readied. Éomer was checking the saddle of his stallion, but he heard her coming and flashed a smile her way. She returned it, pleased to see him in a lighter mood. The set of his shoulders did not seem so tense and his air not so irritable.

"The horses are almost ready", he said and left Firefoot waiting with his squire. He too had dressed warmly: a green cloak of fine wool streamed down his shoulders and his brown tunic was heavy material meant for late autumn. The earthy colours of Rohan complimented him well, she thought to herself.

"I'm glad you could take some time off", she told him with a slight smile. She looked forward to this, in fact: Éomer's reputation as a horseman was legendary even in Gondor. She had to admit it would be nice if she could impress him, too, but knew it was not likely. Her own skills were not above average, though she did like riding.

"I am, too. Past few days, I've felt like I'm going to start to climb walls if I can't get out soon", Éomer said wryly, but his eyes glimmered in amusement. Her heart fluttered, which she knew to take as a warning. This was not quite so innocent on her part, but on the other hand, she did wish to cheer him up.

Her mare was lead outside and Firefoot sniffed at her in interest. A firm word from Éomer had the animal back in line again. They mounted their horses and Lothíriel gathered reins in her hands. She spied a glance of Éomer and secretly admired the natural ease of how he managed the spirited stallion. But as soon as she realised the direction her thoughts had taken, she quickly fixed her eyes in the road before them and tried to banish perilous notions.

After the many days of worry and doubt in Edoras, it felt good to get out of the city. There was a crisp, clear quality to the air and Lothíriel breathed it deeply as she turned her face to the sun. All things seemed simpler and easier here on the wide, free plains. Did Éomer feel that way, too? She glanced at him and saw him watching her. His expression was unreadable, though a quick smile made the corner of his mouth lift when their eyes met.

"How long have you been riding?" she asked him as they trotted away from the capital of Rohan.

"Since I could walk, it feels like. I practically grew up in stables. My father trained Éowyn and I since we were small", he replied. He let out a sigh and continued, "People used to say he was the best horseman of his day."

"He must have been something extraordinary to earn such reputation in your land", Lothíriel remarked.

"Quite true. Although it's said those with Eorl's blood have special aptitude with horses... like the way his descendants of the royal house are the only ones _mearas_ will bear willingly", he said and looked ahead. His expression had become faraway.

"Have you thought about trying to ride them?" she asked carefully. She could easily recall the unusual grace and majesty of _mearas_ from when she had seen them, and guessed Éomer would make even more of a picture should he ride one.

"Not much", he said slowly. "Firefoot is a perfectly fine steed, I don't need to replace him. I suppose... a part of me is scared of what could happen if I did try to ride a _mearh_. What if they didn't let me even touch them?"

She looked at him in sympathy. He was afraid of being deemed unworthy. Sometimes the way Rohirrim revered _mearas_ could feel a little odd, but on the other hand, she had begun to realise they were perceived as proof that Béma was watching over the people of Rohan. And while Éomer had Eorl's blood both from his mother and father, he was still the first king of a new line. It might take years to really establish his dynasty.

"I don't see why they wouldn't", Lothíriel said softly. "You struggle so hard to help your people. What more proof does anyone need of your worthiness?"

Her friend smiled without any particular humour.

"I wish it were so simple. Some superstitions go deeper in this land than you know", he said dryly and let out a sigh. "But don't think I don't appreciate your words."

He seemed to be lapsing to a dark mood – just the thing she had hoped to avoid. So Lothiriel nudged her mare to move a little faster.

"Well, if you really were taught by the greatest horseman in Rohan, why don't you prove it?" she said, gentle and teasing. A glint appeared in his eyes, boyish almost in humour and mischief. She wondered at how easy it was to forget how young he was in truth – and felt sadness at knowing he had given up his youth for Rohan.

"Are you challenging me, my lady?" Éomer asked. He did not seem to guess what she was thinking just then.

"Absolutely", she said, smiling again and discarding all troubled thoughts. It was rare to see him playful and she was not going to ruin the moment.

"Very well then. Can you hold on to this for me?" he said and gave her cocky grin before undoing the clasp of his cloak and handing the garment to her. She folded it neatly before her while he turned his horse around.

"Wait here", Éomer said and winked.

Firefoot sprinted back the way they had come. Then his master turned him again and they rapidly began to build up speed. He sped swiftly towards her, and when Firefoot was next to the mare, Éomer quickly turned around in the saddle so that his back was to the stallion's front. A few seconds later he did it again, now facing the direction Firefoot was going. As the man and the horse galloped ahead, he dropped down; both his feet quickly touched the ground, and then he leaped back to saddle in a fluid motion. Firefoot did not falter or lose speed. Then, as Lothíriel was gasping and applauding in enthusiasm, Éomer dived low against the side of the steed so that he almost seemed to be clinging to Firefoot's belly and his hand grasped at grass – most useful move, if one needed to pick something from the ground. He rose once more and sat straight and proud on the back of his loyal steed. She gazed at the man and animal in breathless wonder. Such horsemanship spoke of extraordinary athletic prowess.

Éomer trotted back and Firefoot was practically prancing under him. Once they were close to her, he had the steed dancing sideways around her and the mare; she noticed he was not holding the reins at all. Both him and Firefoot looked pleased with themselves. Her heart ached, for he was shining bright and golden.

"Does that suffice?" he asked her amiably.

"Very much so. I just hope you didn't sprain anything – it's only weeks since you were injured", she replied and managed to conjure a smile. Meanwhile, he stooped low against Firefoot's neck and murmured words of praise in Rohirric as he ran his hand in long strokes against the stallion's mane. Firefoot snorted deeply.

She had known this man knew how to ride, but not until now had she actually understood the sheer skill he had. Once again in control of her emotions, she looked at him curiously, "Do people in Rohan commonly know how to do that?"

"Well, most professional Riders do know a trick or two, but it depends on how much time you are prepared to spend in training. Young folk often like to show off their skills", he said with a lopsided smile. "But it's not just for fancy acts. It can give you the winning edge in battle or even save your life. At least, it has saved mine."

"Are you ever scared?" Lothíriel asked him.

"There's no time to be scared when you're in the middle of a stunt. And the horse will know if you hesitate. Losing your nerve is an excellent way to get severely injured", he replied seriously as he fastened the cloak around his shoulders again and collected the reins.

"I wish I could learn some of those tricks", she said wistfully and sighed. "But I know it's quite impossible. For one, I'm not talented enough and Father would throw a fit if I ever suggested such a thing."

"There's plenty you can learn even if you don't aim for dramatic stunts", Éomer said and smiled slightly.

They spent a little while more galloping lightly across the plains. He gave her a few tips and pointers here and there, patiently telling her what to do, and Lothíriel felt secretly pleased. How many could say they had got riding lessons from the King of Rohan himself? It was a pity he didn't get to train more people; one with such gift would surely have a lot to teach others.

Eventually he suggested they turn back. While both had enjoyed the ride, he could not spend the whole afternoon outside. Lothíriel agreed and gave him a smile. He looked relaxed and less irritable than he had recently. And she – she hadn't even despaired with her unrequited feelings for him, but just enjoyed the friendship and sharing a few laughs. Somehow they had both made the best of this ride.

"This was nice. Thank you for coming out with me", she told him softly.

"It's nothing. I had a good time, too", he replied and flashed a charming smile at her. Lothíriel felt heat rush up her neck and she looked down quickly. She hadn't realised how irresistible this cheerful mood could make him. Her throat grew tight. Why did someone like him have to exist when she could never be with him?

The painful question did not entirely disappear even when one of the guards, following them from a respectful distance, suddenly cried out.

 _"Sire!"_ he exclaimed. There was urgency that implied some shocking event. Éomer looked immediately around, sitting up straight in his saddle and looking ready to do battle right away. But it turned out nothing so serious was at hand.

Where the three horses had come from Lothíriel could not say. Perhaps these animals were indeed tools of Béma, and so could appear and vanish in an eye-blink. Though she had not seen their kind up close until now, she recognised their shimmering coats and powerful figures at once. They moved slowly but surely towards them... or, they were going to _him_.

 _Mearas_ had come once more.

Éomer dismounted. His eyes were wide and focused, and his expression was solemn. Carefully he took a few steps towards the three great horses, as if he and them were the only living creatures on these plains. One of the _mearas_ came forth, a beautiful young stallion with bright silver coat.

Deep silence had fallen over the scene. Not even her mare or Firefoot made sounds as they regarded these unfamiliar horses. But Éomer walked to meet the silver stallion, extending his hand towards the animal. Every inch of his arm radiated yearning. He did not touch the horse, however, and she recalled their conversation from before. Her heart raced. Even if he doubted, she had complete faith in what would happen next.

And so it did: the stallion reached his great head towards the King of Rohan and pressed his nose against the palm of his hand.

* * *

After the ride, _mearas_ were the talk of the city for many days. News of their appearance spread like wildfire among people. The guards who had been accompanying the King were asked to tell the story again, and Lothíriel felt like it all had a different kind of weight now: this time, it had not been a sighing by some foreigner and there had been other witnesses. _Mearas_ had come to the King of Rohan.

She also noted there appearing a hopeful sort of mood after so many harrowing days. The crisis in Westfold had been on everyone's minds, but this meeting of Béma's horses and the Lord of the Mark was taken as a good omen. Rohan was not abandoned. As serious as the threat of famine had seemed, perhaps this meant such catastrophe could be avoided.

Éomer's mood seemed to improve as well. His expression was not so tight and his steps grew lighter. And she felt like he was more confident in his position: he had met _mearas_ and he had been allowed to touch one of them. His fear of being unworthy was unwarranted, after all – although she had always known it. Yet perhaps for the first time since the deaths of his cousin and uncle, Éomer had faith in his own ability to carry this burden.

Lothíriel was glad for him, just as she was proud. Deep down, she had a feeling that if he could get through this first winter, then he would truly emerge as a great king and be able to face much worse challenges. And when that day came, she imagined he would be a thing to behold. Her only regret was knowing she could just admire him from afar.

Days passed and the keenest excitement over _mearas_ grew into something calmer, though the hopeful undertone remained. It didn't mean Éomer and his council could actually relax and cease with their struggle to make up for the lost goods. But even so, Lothíriel thought most if not all of them now had some faith they had lacked before.

Her own anxiety remained, for no news from Dol Amroth had yet reached her, and she had no idea of what was the situation with her attempt to help. She knew the letter would already have arrived in the city by the sea. The rest depended on her father and his secretary and she could only hope they would understand the gravity of this matter.

She might have been even more nervous had she known what would soon happen.

* * *

Lothíriel had accompanied Éowyn to meet with a few families that had come from the Westfold to take shelter in Edoras. They were mostly those who had already suffered heavy losses during the war, and the looming threat of starvation had finally driven them out of their homes. Lothíriel knew the concern of her friends was that all of Westfold would do so, thus leaving a part of the realm vulnerable to attacks and possibly disturbing the already delicate peace in the land. Anxiously she glanced at the eastern horizon once more, wondering how soon she might have word from Dol Amroth.

Éowyn was quiet and thoughtful when they walked back to Meduseld. Her eyes were downcast and there was a small crease on her brow as she mulled over her worries. Lothíriel suppressed a sigh. If only she had known how to ease the mind of her friend! It was hard to recall the wonder and majesty of Éomer meeting _mearas_ when the sight of gaunt, tormented faces of Westfolders were fresh in memory.

They had barely stepped inside the Golden Hall when a royal guard approached the two women. Éowyn's head perked up, looking like she was expecting the man to address to her. However, it was Lothíriel he directed his words at, much to both women's surprise.

"My lady, Éomer King would like to speak with you presently", he said and quickly bowed his head.

Lothíriel glanced at her friend in quiet astonishment, but Éowyn shrugged. She had no better idea of what business he had with their guest.

"Very well", said Lothíriel and touched her friend's wrist quickly as a sign she would rejoin her later. Then she made to follow the guard, as she didn't know where to find Éomer.

He lead her to the door of the royal study and there bowed his head again. Suddenly, an ill sensation shifted in the bottom of her stomach. Why did her friend want to talk to her at such a formal location?

She swallowed hard and lifted her hand to knock at the door. Almost at once, a voice called her inside.

The royal study was well lit and cosy. Yet the atmosphere felt charged somehow as Éomer paced around, carrying a piece of parchment in his hand. His mouth was a thin line and his frown was deep.

"You asked to talk with me. Has something happened?" she inquired in concern, forgetting propriety. But had they not been friends, she would scarcely have dared to speak first.

"Something has happened indeed", Éomer said in a strange, low voice. "I received most curious tidings from Aragorn. I had sent a message to him to ask if there were any more help he could give us for the sake of Westfold. His own messenger was sent south to speak with Imrahil, as harvest in Belfalas was said to be overwhelmingly rich. Imagine both mine and Aragorn's surprise when we learnt that not only did Imrahil already know of our crisis, but he was about to send a shipment of goods sailing from Dol Amroth!"

Lothíriel blinked and a mixture of joy and dread mounted in her breast. Her father had taken her plead to heart! However, Éomer's tone revealed he was not quite as gleeful about this fact as she'd have hoped.

"That is good news", she said timidly, clasping her hands before her. "I have been wondering if he has received my message and acted on my behalf."

Seeing the way his eyes flashed, she wanted to take a step back. But she held her ground and hurried to continue, "I did mean to tell you! I know how it must seem to you. I just couldn't find the right moment, and I have hardly seen you these past couple weeks. Any time I tried to talk to Éowyn about it, she interrupted me and insisted that it wasn't for me to worry about. So I... I just lost my courage, I suppose."

"My sister was right", Éomer said at length. His expression was impassive now, but she knew him well enough at this point to realise it was not a good sign. "It _was not_ for you to worry about. Had we thought your aid was necessary, we would have asked for it."

She lowered her eyes and tried to swallow, but her throat was too tight. This was the exact thing she had feared. Why hadn't she told him sooner? And why hadn't she offered him her aid before taking any actions? And yet... the distress of the news from Westfold had felt so urgent, so dreadful. Didn't Elphir always say sometimes it was better to act than waste time in talk?

"Do you think you did right? Did you expect we would be thanking you for going behind our backs?" he asked her and his voice grew harsh and loud.

"No", she whispered. "I didn't mean it like that. I was going to..."

Her voice died when she glanced up and saw the expression on his face.

"It has always been so between Rohan and Gondor! In your speeches you insist on what invaluable friends we are to you. And yet at any given chance you are eager to show off your superiority, mocking our homes and the way we live our life – disdaining it only because your forefathers had greater fortunes than ours did. How many times did I hear whispers behind my back? How often I had to watch them judging my sister as Faramir's inferior? Barbarians you call us! A band of long-haired savages living in barns!" he growled and clenched his fist so that the parchment he had been holding crumpled. He had been pacing until now, but he suddenly halted and stared right at her.

"I had thought you different. I believed you respected us unlike most people do", he said and once more his voice grew quiet and low.

Lothíriel could just barely open her mouth. It was a wonder any sound came out.

"But I do. I never meant to insult you", she choked, knowing she would start crying any second now. But he did not seem to be aware of that.

"Then perhaps you should have asked before imposing your alms on us!" he snapped as the heat of his anger rose again.

That did it. She couldn't stand it a moment longer.

"It was not alms", Lothíriel whimpered as tears finally filled her eyes. "I was just trying to help my friend."

Without another word, she dashed out and ran.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Sooo... that happened. Every now and then, I just got to end a chapter with a cliffhanger.

Lothíriel's intentions were good, and her help should come in need, but it's very much Éomer's pride and his constant struggle with the idea of not being capable of ruling that trigger his angry reaction. I guess you could say that both their actions (her arranging the buying of goods, his anger) are impulsive. But we shall get into that more in depth in the next chapter!

Also, big thanks to **Jo** for inspiring the scene where they meet _mearas!_ This was suggested by Jo in one review, and I admit I almost instantly decided it's something that needs to happen sooner or later. I hope you liked that bit!

Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Let me know what you think!

* * *

 **frank . kilgenschmidt -** Glad to hear it! :) Also good to know I'm able to invoke such reactions in readers. :D

 **Hobbitpony1 -** Thank you!

 **EStrunk -** Happy to hear you think so! I did enjoy crafting his character and must admit I was a little disappointed for not being able to write more of him in this chapter. :D

I also loved writing that last bit where they hug. I wasn't originally meaning to let her realise her feelings for him at that point, but after writing the scene, it seemed essential.

 **Cricklewood16 -** Thank you! I'm looking forward to sharing that bit from his point of view, too!

 **Menelwen -** Thank you very much!

I imagine Éowyn is not blind at all to what's going on, but she may be uncertain about how and if she should meddle in it.

As for why Lothíriel didn't say anything, it's just she doesn't know how to. She's still pretty young and inexperienced and there never seems to come an opportunity for it. Like she says, she loses her courage. And you were quite correct to assume Éomer would get angry!

Happy New Year to you as well!

 **Anon -** I enjoy writing their friendship very much, too! While they are fairly different personalities, they do indeed have a lot to offer to this relationship. Neither have really had this kind of a close friendship with another woman before.

Unfortunately, things did not go so well with Éomer!

 **Wondereye -** She may have bigger problems than Déorwine, though!

 **Doranwen -** Yes, I suppose criticising him really was not the way to win her over!

Also happy to hear you liked the hug! I did too. :)

 **blasttyrant -** I am happy to hear you are taking chances with this story! Personally, I appreciate people who take the chance and read the story as it's being published (and send reviews while reading). It's really very helpful for writing.

Éowyn probably suspects more than she lets on, but I think she has not yet figured out if she should interfere or not!


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

By the time there was a knock on her door, Lothiriel had already bawled out her eyes.

She had ran straight to her room and not emerged since, not even for dinner. Firstly, the mere idea of food made her sick. Secondly, there was no way she could face Éomer after the angry scene in the royal study. So she had curled up in a ball on her bed and cried some more like some pitiful thing. She had never felt more homesick.

But now a sound finally interrupted her miserable musings and she lifted her head a little bit. For a second she thought of not answering. Let them think she was asleep. However, that would just be an entirely new level of pathetic.

"What is it?" she croaked and immediately grimaced at how hoarse she sounded.

"May I come in?" Éowyn's gentle voice asked from behind the door.

Lothíriel hesitated for a minute. What if Éowyn too meant to trash her? She couldn't take both her friends' anger. The worst thing was not that she had made a mistake, it was the fact she had disappointed Éomer. If Éowyn felt that way, too... well, she might as well pack her bags and go home.

On the other hand, Éowyn's voice was nothing but kind. She owed it to her to at least let her come inside.

"All right", she managed, though her voice faltered. Unable to meet the eyes of her friend, Lothíriel hid her face in the soft wool of her blanket.

The door opened and there were soft steps on the floor. Then she could feel someone hovering over her. A hand descended on her arm as Éowyn sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Why didn't you come to dinner?" Éowyn asked softly.

"I wasn't feeling hungry", Lothíriel answered and kept her face firmly planted in warm, comforting wool.

Her friend was silent for a moment. Then she let out a sigh and she rubbed Lothíriel's arm gently.

"I am not angry with you, Lothíriel", she said at last.

"You're not?" the younger of the two asked in surprise, though she did open her eyes and lift her head a little bit. Éowyn smiled sadly.

"Of course not. Your help will allow us to save lives", she simply said.

Lothíriel blinked. Her mind moved slowly thanks to the haze left by too much crying and just feeling generally miserable. So her friend continued to talk.

"My brother told me everything. It's what you've been trying to tell me, isn't it? Ever since the night we got the news?" Éowyn asked.

She could only nod. She still didn't understand why Éowyn wasn't yelling at her, too.

Her friend seemed satisfied.

"I should have known. The way you appeared in the royal study... but I see how it can be intimidating to open your mouth. Like I said, I'm not angry. The only thing I am is thankful. How soon do you think the goods will arrive?" Éowyn said and eagerness rose in her voice. There was a glimmer in her eyes that had been gone more often than not these past couple weeks.

"I don't know. Before today, I wasn't even sure if my father would allow it to happen. But if King Elessar's messenger had travelled to Dol Amroth and back and then word was sent here, I think the shipment may already be in Minas Tirith", Lothíriel said uncertainly.

Éowyn smiled brightly.

"That is wonderful. In that case, it won't be long before your shipment arrives", she said and squeezed her friend's arm. "Thank you, Lothíriel. You have done a good thing."

"Your brother did not seem to think so", said Lothíriel. Her throat felt tight once more and she swallowed against tears that threatened to rise again. She recalled his flaming eyes and the memory cut deep like a knife.

The White Lady grimaced and then let out a sigh.

"You mustn't feel too bad about it, Lothíriel. He'll come around once he has had a chance to cool down a little bit", she said and patted her arm.

"I didn't think he'd get so angry", Lothíriel whispered and bit her lip. It had been a terrible thing to see, and she felt like she could now understand his reputation as an intimidating warrior in an entirely new light.

"My brother can be a complicated man sometimes. He's not used to needing or asking for help. What you did took him by surprise and it didn't sit well with him... you see, it's a little bit of a fixation for him, this need to make it through his first year of being a king, like it was meant for him to suffer alone. He gets so stubborn about it. And I suppose it's because of his pride, too", Éowyn explained gently. It made sense now that her friend put it into words, but understanding didn't mean Éomer's outburst did not hurt.

"Having said that", Éowyn continued, "I do wish you had told us sooner."

Lothíriel groaned and rubbed the side of her face.

"I know. And I meant to tell you at once. But I got so nervous and I didn't know how to explain myself... I was so desperate to do something to help. I couldn't stand just sitting idly while you and Éomer were working so hard and people were suffering", she muttered. Yes, she could see her own folly so clearly now. What a blotched mess she had made of it!

Éowyn listened to her quietly and nodded when she finished.

"You had no obligation to do anything, and yet you did. That is a compliment to your character that cannot be undermined by how you went about it. Lothíriel, you are young and unused to this kind of a thing. Few of us are natural at leadership. Don't be too hard on yourself", said the White Lady and then she rose again. Smoothing down her skirts, she added, "I'll talk to Éomer and tell him apologise. He shouldn't have lost his temper like that."

"It's fine. You don't have to -" Lothíriel began, but Éowyn raised a hand to interrupt her.

"No, I insist. You are our friend and guest, and he should at least have given you a chance to explain", she said firmly, silencing all objections. But even as Lothíriel sank down, Éowyn smiled a little.

"I'll send you a plate from the kitchens. Try and eat a little bit, and then get some rest. We'll get back to business tomorrow", she said, and after they had bid each other good night, Éowyn left again.

Lothíriel pressed her face again in the blanket. While her heart was still sick, her mind was a little bit calmer.

At least she still had one friend here in Meduseld.

* * *

Lothíriel had never felt more nervous about breakfast as she did the next morning. Éomer would be there and she would have to face him. How could she look him in the eye and not think of what had happened in his study? What if he was still angry with her?

Yes, maybe it was cowardly. But she had never been yelled at like that, and least of all by someone she loved and admired. She could not have imagined how much it hurt to lose the regard of someone so important. And Éomer was truly an intimidating man when he got angry.

Even Hild noticed her fidgeting when she was helping her to dress. The girl didn't seem to buy her excuse when she claimed she had just slept poorly, but at least she didn't pursue the matter.

When they were ready, Lothíriel sent Hild on her way and stepped outside, too. She didn't feel particularly hungry: in fact, the sheer idea of entering the hall made it feel like her stomach was full of stones. She bit the insides of her cheeks and pressed her nails into the palms of her hands. Prince Imrahil's daughter should not be this meek and fearful.

After a few deep breaths, she decided she was as ready as she was ever going to be. So she began to move and thus entered the great hall of Meduseld, where folk were already breaking their fast. Almost at once she saw that her dread had been in vain: Éomer was not at his table. She had already learnt that if he was not present at this time, he was unlikely to make an appearance at all.

Despite herself she felt relief. She didn't have to confront him yet.

Éowyn was present, though, and Lothíriel went to take seat next to her. A part of her would have liked to ask about him, but she held her tongue.

"Feeling any better?" Éowyn asked softly.

"A little bit", said the younger of the two women. She kept her eyes on her plate, though her appetite was not quite as improved as one might hope.

"Don't worry about anything, my friend. Even if my brother insists on being a stubborn fool right now, he will come around. If not sooner, seeing your shipment arrive should at least change his mind", said her friend in encouragement.

Lothíriel made a non-committal sound and tried to drink a little bit of tea. It was tasteless in her mouth, but for Éowyn's sake, she drank and ate some. She wasn't sure it fooled her friend, but at least the White Lady said nothing.

Once they had both finished eating, Éowyn looked at her with a slight smile.

"Are you up for a lesson this morning?" she inquired. "We have had too little time for them as of late."

"And for a good reason, as one may recall", Lothíriel noted gravely. She managed to conjure a smile at length and went on to add, "But a lesson does sound like a good plan. Let me just go and fetch some things from my room."

"I'll see you in the solar", Éowyn said, wiping her hands on a napkin as she stood up.

Lothíriel visited her chamber quickly, picking up her notes and a few books from her tiny desk. The prospect of a lesson was welcome. It would give her something else to think besides the throbbing ache in her chest that felt like a sore wound.

Once she had everything she needed, Lothíriel turned around and began to make her way for the Queen's solar.

She was approaching the door of the solar when voices from inside had her halting. It sounded like some kind of an argument. At once, she recognised the low timbre of _his_ voice, even though she couldn't make out the words.

Éowyn's heated response was harder to miss.

"... how stubborn must you be? You know her better than that! It was not condescension that made her act, but compassion!" the White Lady half-shouted. Heat spread across Lothíriel's cheeks. Abruptly she was regretting that she had ever started learning Rohirric.

Thankfully, he was still speaking low enough so that she did not hear what he said. After yesterday, she could not handle any more of his criticism.

"You are a rotten fool, brother!" Éowyn was saying now. Frustration could not be clearer in her voice. "Fine, go on acting like a prideful idiot, then. But don't come crying to me when you realise what mistake you made in ruining your friendship with her!"

There was a sound of commotion inside and Lothíriel ducked behind the corner. She hid herself just in time: there was the sound of a furious horselord storming by. She could only see his back as he went, straight and rigid like a crowbar. Not facing him in the corridor surely felt like she had just dodged a javelin to chest.

The door of the solar was wide open when she tiptoed inside. Éowyn was seated and had her face in her hands, but she looked up when she heard movement. The weary look on her face first shifted to a fierce expression like she had expected her brother to return for another bout of argument, but it melted into a sheepish smile.

"How much did you hear?" she asked in embarrassment.

"Too much", Lothíriel said. Her cheeks still felt hot.

"I'm sorry. I... I had asked him here before. I meant to make him apologise to you, but... you can see how well _that_ went", Éowyn said and shook her head.

"Best not to poke a bear when it's already in a mood", Lothíriel said delicately. Her heart was still racing in her breast.

"Quite. I suppose I got too impatient... he needs his time simmering down. It's always been like that since we were children. He doesn't hold a grudge, but sometimes he's just slow to calm down", said the White Lady. She let out an exasperated sigh.

Then she looked at her friend, who was hovering nearby, still anxious over the conversation she had overheard. Éowyn managed to smile, "I hope you don't feel very upset. We can skip the lesson, if you'd like."

"No, no. I think it's just what we both need right now", Lothíriel insisted and sat down, spreading her notes and books before her.

"I really am sorry about this, Lothíriel", Éowyn said softly. Her fair features were twisted in a look of concern and her hands fidgeted at the sleeve of her gown.

"It's all right. It's my own fault for keeping you and him in the dark. I should have remembered that warriors rarely like surprises", Lothíriel said firmly and opened her books. She looked straight at her friend. "Now, do you feel like hearing about the early history of the House of Dol Amroth?"

Éowyn smiled and relaxed a little bit.

"Of course. Lead away, my friend!"

* * *

Lothíriel was not certain what she hoped for: a quick resolution to the fallout between her and Éomer, or a way for them to avoid one another until the matter was forgotten. But as it happened, the matter was taken out of their hands that very same day.

After their lesson, Éowyn suggested they take a long ride out to the plains and perhaps visit the village of Snowford near the river. It seemed like a wonderful idea, and so the two women dressed warmly and headed outside. A few guards, her Swan Knights among them, came along as escorts.

The first leg of the journey they made in swift gallop, allowing their horses to let out some steam. Éowyn noted soon enough that Lothíriel sat differently in saddle; her posture seemed easier but also more grounded. The younger of two women blushed and lowered her eyes. It didn't feel right to mention _him_ at this time, even if the change was because of the advise he had given to her when they had gone out riding together.

She muttered something under her breath and tried to speed up her mare, although the poor sweet animal could not compete with Éowyn's Windfola. Either way, her friend did not pursue the topic and for a while, they rode forth in silence.

It was not a long way from the capital to Snowford. The village was tiny compared to Edoras, but it seemed prosperous and the folk living there had a wealthy look about them. Upon the company's arrival, people were quick to come and greet the White Lady. A few curious looks were thrown at Lothíriel's direction, but Éowyn was quick to introduce her to the folk.

They had a rather good time that afternoon, meeting and talking with the villagers, drinking hot cider that was brought to them by a pair of giggling girls, and buying a couple little trinkets from local craftsmen. Lothíriel even forgot about what had happened with Éomer. No doubt it was just what her friend had hoped for.

Not wanting to ride back in the dark, they turned back when the afternoon was starting to grow older. Their horses having rested, the two women and the escort galloped back to towards the capital, glimmering softly in late afternoon's light. It hit Lothíriel then, the thought of how beautiful Rohan really was, and Edoras especially. Some ladies back in south, who had accompanied the great entourage of King Elessar for the funeral of Théoden King, had complained and said this was a dull land of nothing but grass and sky. But she thought there was so much more. The heavens above looked different every day and there was a sense of freedom to the grass-plains she had only ever felt at the shores of the sea. For her, openness was never dull. And the people! She could sing songs about the warmth and welcoming way of Rohirrim, and how they laughed heartily and did not hide their tears. These were a folk who celebrated being alive.

And then there was _him_. Just as savage as the mountains and wild lands, or as gentle and warm as summer; the keen and resilient light burning at the heart of Rohan itself. Even after feeling the brunt of his temper and pride, she couldn't resent him for it. They were simply a part of who he was.

Maybe that was also the key to reconciling. She couldn't spend the rest of her time in Rohan trying to avoid him. Neither could she stand the idea of him thinking of her as a thoughtless child who considered herself better than him and his people. On the other hand, how could this be resolved if he did not want to make it right?

Her thoughts came to a close when they were a little under a mile away from the capital. A line of riders were streaming out of the gates of Edoras and at the very front, she could spot the royal standard being carried.

Éomer had left Edoras.

* * *

There was something almost burning to what Lothíriel felt while watching the King and his Company ride away. She could not name it, but it was akin to disappointment and betrayal, and yet there was also something regretful. Did he owe her anything, in the end?

On the other hand, she had thought they were friends.

She did not speak on their way back to Edoras. If she did, she might start crying. Éowyn would probably not understand it, especially because she didn't know about her feelings for Éomer. And right now, Lothíriel was not in an explaining mood.

Once they reached Meduseld, she uttered something about needing to take a bath, and so hurried up the steps to the Hall as soon as a stable-hand had grasped the reins of her mare. Lothíriel could feel Éowyn's eyes following her all the way to the twin doors. She felt badly about appearing as though Éowyn's attempts to cheer her up had not been effective. It was all _his_ stupid doing, with his stupid stubborn pride and stupid wrong assumptions and she was going to cry _again_ like a silly little baby.

But when the bath had been drawn for her and she was submerged in hot water nearly up to her nose, her mood became slightly calmer and her thoughts a little less tumultuous. Maybe she was over-thinking this and exaggerating her own importance in his affairs. The world did not stop and neither did Rohan at anyone's convenience; perhaps something urgent had happened and he had needed to ride out post haste. Still, it would have been nice of him to leave some word.

She sunk even lower in the tub, so that only her eyes were above water, and blew out a frustrated little stream of bubbles. Men! Why hadn't anyone told her how confusing and infuriating they were? If only she were someone older and wiser and more confident... then surely she'd give him a run for his money. But she wasn't those things, and that was why Éomer would not tell her he was sorry about their confrontation, or leave her some message, or feel like she did about him.

Lothíriel took a deep breath and dipped her head under the water completely.

* * *

A few days passed and Lothíriel was keen to fill her hours with things to do. This was not particularly difficult. There were lessons with Éowyn and time spent with her, or Hild and Lady Scýne. The two seemed a little surprised when Lothíriel asked them to teach her some of the handicrafts of Rohirrim; little did they know how learning these new skills were helping her to stay distracted. She also took up the task of recording songs and tales and poems of Rohan – no small or easy thing, considering her Rohirric was not yet fluent. But she was glad to let it consume her time and mind as she chased after willing informants and struggled to improve her grasp on the language of Rohan.

However, no matter how much she tried to keep her mind occupied, at night she was defenceless. And so _he_ came to her when she was curled up in bed, and she could not fight back the memory of his anger and biting words. Somehow, it was all the worse after the way he had just left without a word. Clearer than ever, she was convinced that he'd never care about her as much as she did about him. And though this came not as a revelation to her, it just _hurt_ so much.

The seventh day of his absence brought another distraction to Edoras: Lord Déorwine stopped her in the courtyard of Meduseld. He was smiling brightly as he bowed and greeted her. When she curtsied and responded, she thought of how easy it was to get along with him and how uncomplicated he was compared to _someone_.

"My lord Déorwine, what brings you to Edoras at this time?" she asked him.

"I'm making some reparations and renovations at my hall, and so I came here to meet local craftsmen and merchants. Edoras has a bit wider range in that regard, you see", he said, though his words did make her wonder if he would have bothered to come himself if she was not here. But then, was that a bad thing? It was nice to be wanted.

"It seems a long way to travel", she said, nevertheless.

"I suppose. But I don't mind, as life back at my village can get so slow and quiet. And my cousin lives here in Edoras. She has two little ones and is expecting the third, so she doesn't mind having some adult company besides her husband", Déorwine explained. Something eager appeared in his grey eyes as he went on to add, "In fact, she asked me to invite you for tea, my lady. She has been dying to meet you."

"It would be my pleasure, Lord Déorwine", Lothiriel answered, much to his joy. His smile was positively beaming.

And so it was in the same afternoon that Lothíriel found herself seated in the kitchen of Lord Déorwine's cousin. The household was as anywhere in Edoras, with lots of carved wood, well-used furniture, and rich colours abound. The lady of the house, a woman named Haelana, was not much like her cousin from Harrowdale, though they had same eyes and mouth. Her manner was lively as she chattered away and minded her two children. One was but a toddler who seemed to be everywhere at once, and the older one, a girl of perhaps four summers, seemed permanently glued to her mother's skirts. The little girl stared at Lothíriel with wide blue eyes until she piped in a small voice: "Is she a princess, Ma?"

"I daresay she is, darling", said Haelana and let out a bell-like laughter before ushering her children into a bedchamber. Lothíriel wondered if they were really in the need of a nap, or if Haelana just wanted to get out of her cousin's way.

"A charming girl, don't you think?" Lord Déorwine said warmly after the door had closed.

"Indeed", Lothíriel said and lifted her ceramic cup between her hands. The dish was sturdy, green earthenware that felt comforting in one's grip. She blew softly into the steaming liquid inside.

"I hope you don't mind me observing", he said after a moment of silence, "Are you quite well, my lady? Even before, I thought you are a little pale."

She offered him a smile.

"No, I'm perfectly well. I suppose this colder weather just takes time adjusting to, is all", she said with a gentle shake of her head. They were not good enough friends for her to fill his ears with her heartache, and in any case, Lord Déorwine probably did not want to hear her venting about another man.

"It must be quite different from Dol Amroth. You don't get snow there, yes?" he asked her and she saw that same eager glint in his eyes that always appeared when Gondor was somehow mentioned.

"No, we don't. Which is why I actually look forward to winter proper here in Rohan", Lothíriel answered.

"You'll see plenty of it before the year turns. Though there's actually more of it on the mountains, and at the very top, it never melts. You should come visit Harrowdale in winter, my lady. It's quite lovely there, if you like a cold season", he said and poured himself some more tea. He offered the pot to her too, but she declined.

"Hmm. Perhaps I will ask Lady Éowyn if we could travel there. Though I don't know if she can be much away from Edoras while the issue remains", said Lothíriel. Lord Déorwine nodded gravely; he didn't need explaining what issue she meant.

"Well, you and the White Lady are most welcome, if you decide to come", he said emphatically.

"I shall keep it in mind", she said with a small smile.

He considered her a while over the rim of his cup and his grey eyes were thoughtful. The keen look of his eyes made her feel a little awkward.

"My lady, do tell me if I'm being too quizzical, but may I ask what you intend to do when you go back to Gondor?" he asked her, and his question rather took her aback. At first, she didn't know what to answer.

"I don't really know. To tell you the truth, I haven't given it much thought", she admitted at last and stared at her tea, still steaming gently. Spring seemed so far away, and going home was but a distant prospect. She couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to go back to Dol Amroth after her long stay in Rohan. Well, one thing she knew for sure: she would miss _him_ so much.

"So you will return to Dol Amroth, then?" asked Lord Déorwine as he leant back in his chair.

"I expect so. It should be nice to spend some time with my family after being parted from them for so long", Lothíriel said with a small shrugh of her shoulders.

"It seems a pity, though. Come the spring, there won't be another Gondorian who is as well-informed in the matter of Rohan as you, my lady", he pointed out. It made her blink; she had not thought of it from that perspective.

"Well, I don't expect to know more than King Elessar. He lived among Rohirrim a number of years at a time", she said carefully.

"Yes, but how long has it been since then? Things may have changed, and he has his own worries in Gondor", Déorwine remarked. "But even so, all I am saying that it would be a pity if your kinsmen and the lords of Gondor disregard your insight to the current events of Rohan. Diplomats have been trained with less."

Lothíriel almost snorted out loud. Her, a diplomat? What an idea! But then as she considered it, she had to admit that already her functions here could be defined so in some regards. Had that been her father's intention all along?

"I suppose time will show", she said at length and sipped her tea. "In any case, spring is still months away and I'd rather focus on what's happening right now."

"Even so, you are a bright young woman, my lady. I hope the people in your life know that", Déorwine said seriously.

Lothíriel lowered her eyes in embarrassment. Being complimented by unrelated men still felt strange. Briefly she wondered if he only said so because he wanted to appease to her. But then immediately she felt mortified at her own thoughts. Just because Déorwine had proposed to her and probably still hoped to win her over did not mean that he wasn't sincere.

"Thank you for your words, my lord. You are most kind", she managed to speak before draining the rest of her tea.

* * *

For whatever reason, the day had left Lothíriel feeling mentally spent, too weary for interactions with other people. So she retired early and sought solace in writing letters for her family back in Dol Amroth. When she had sealed and readied them for sending, she picked up the bridal shift she was making for Éowyn and tried to focus on the intricate embroidery.

However, soon enough her mind began to wander and she found herself thinking of Lord Déorwine again. Lothíriel put aside her needlework, not wanting to ruin her hard work while her thoughts were not in it. She sighed and pulled her knees close to her chest as she thought about the dark-haired horselord. She couldn't deny it: Lord Déorwine had his good qualities. His temper was mild and his manners always collected. She knew where she stood with him and was certain life as his spouse would be easy and quiet. Not to mention, she suspected he was physically incapable of getting angry at her over anything.

On the other hand, it probably also meant he could never feel passionately, either. And now in a moment of realisation it dawned to her how much she wanted that very thing. She wanted to feel it in herself and for the man she took to her lover and husband. The thought made her shiver and something anxious shifted in her belly. But she was quick to smother such notions with a healthy dose of realism. For a woman of her status, daydreams of love unions were just that: daydreams. She had grown up knowing eventually her father would pick a suitable companion for her, and that day she would do her duty.

But couldn't that companion be the King of Rohan himself? It might be easier than she thought – after all, she was the daughter of one of the greatest lords of Gondor, and Father admired Éomer a great deal. The thought _was_ tempting. But in her heart she knew it simply couldn't be an option. Maybe Éomer did not want an arranged marriage. The price for few moments of bliss would be too heavy to pay, for she couldn't even think of living years and years as Éomer's wife and desperately waiting for any scrap of affection he might throw at her. Eventually it would kill her. And she could not put him in that position, either. One so decent would only feel guilt and perhaps pity for his adoring wife, and he deserved the opportunity of choosing a wife he wanted and loved.

She brushed hands against her eyes, trying to wipe away the sting in them. Yet maybe it was better to be in pain now that spend years hurting because the man she loved would never feel the same for her. Maybe it just was healthier for her to face the truth now rather than grow bitter after a lifetime of disappointment. And while she did not have the wisdom that age and experience brought, she surmised that security was better than high but brief passion.

At least with Lord Déorwine, she knew she was in no danger at all.

* * *

After a morning's lesson, Éowyn's expression was one of surprise and doubt when Lothíriel said she was going to go out and seek for the Lord of Harrowdale. She guessed her friend was thinking of their conversation on the night of the Harvest Feast, and so she was quick to add: "I haven't forgotten your advice. What I did not realise at the time was I might have to worry about my own heart, too. And Lord Déorwine is not likely ever to break it."

After that statement, she picked up her things and made way outside very quickly. She did not look back to see her friend's expression.

When an hour or so later Lothíriel came across Lord Déorwine and asked to accompany him to his business at the markets, he looked pleasantly surprised. He agreed readily, as though thinking that even a moment's hesitation might change her mind. And so, as Éowyn was busy back in Meduseld, Lothíriel dressed warmly, put on her sturdy boots, and went on to meet the Lord of Harrowdale in the courtyard. He was smiling brightly as he offered her his arm, which she took silently.

Déorwine chatted away as they made way for the markets, happily filling the silences when she didn't know what to say. He was an easy companion, level in his mild, slow moods. A critical voice rose inside, pointing out it wasn't what her heart desired. But she was quick to smother the thought. One could learn to live with, even love, if one tried enough.

The afternoon was pleasant enough. Déorwine took her around the markets, introducing her to people she had not yet met, explained her how this or that thing was done, and supplied her with translations when they were necessary. During that day, she learnt more about Rohirric craftsmanship than ever before in her life. More than once he asked whether she liked some piece of furniture or clothing. One might think he was renovating his hall her in mind specifically, which she guessed was at least his hope.

He was keen to notice when she began to wear down and took her to a local tavern – finest in Edoras, as he boasted upon entering – and quickly ordered them some hot cider. Lothíriel was grateful to wrap her cool, stiff fingers around the warm mug. The homely feel of it was comforting, just as the tavern around them. It was a spacious room, a proper hall in fact. Furniture was sturdy and well-made, with intricate carvings here and there. Rugs and pelts were thrown over long benches, and several parties were seated around tables. A mighty hearth had a fire going and a big cauldron was bubbling over it, spreading a hearty smell in the tavern. Lamps and candles spread warm light, but she noted they were not lit in full capacity: enough daylight streamed inside still. A young maiden with long, flaxen braid served ale while a tall, bearded man observed proceedings behind what seemed to be the counter at the other side of the common room. Lothíriel had never been to a Rohirric tavern but if they all were like this, she decided they were quite agreeable. An errant thought came: she wouldn't mind visiting one with _him._

"Feeling any warmer?" asked Déorwine, smiling as he spoke. The beginnings of a daydream she had got died right there.

"Yes. This is delicious", Lothíriel answered and sipped the heated liquid carefully.

"I agree. I don't much care for ale, but cider in these parts is commendable", he said and took a mouthful of his own drink. He looked at her curiously, "Do you have anything like this in Dol Amroth?"

"I believe the common folk have similar drinks as ale and cider, but it's rare to get either in my father's court. He has always preferred wines – and sometimes he'll serve brandy to guests", she answered, recalling the lush vineyards inland that produced wine for the whole realm. Herself, she much liked the white wines made in the sunny vales. But the fair beaches of Belfalas were far away and she'd better not think of them.

Déorwine let out a sigh of longing.

"How fortunate you are. It's rare to get wine here – there are no vineyards in Rohan, as our climate is not mild enough for them. And one could spend a fortune trying to buy and ship some from Gondor. As you probably know very well, these past few years have been hard on all trade between our realms", he said with a shake of his head.

"Well, I think it should get easier sooner or later. The Great West Road will be better watched when less men are needed to defend the borders both here and in Gondor. And I have heard the King speaking of the Dimholt Road as a possible new route to south", Lothíriel said and ignored the sting that came with the thought of _him_. Indeed, she had heard mentions of the old, previously haunted pass through the mountains to Morthond Vale. King Elessar had journeyed that way and taken the phantoms with him, leaving it open for the living. It would shorten the journey to southern Gondor considerably.

Lord Déorwine received this information with eager nods. Holding the seat of Harrowdale, he would be one who would greatly benefit from the opening of Dimholt Road, both personally and generally.

"That would be a wonderful thing, truly. Not just for trade but for the friendship between our peoples. And the journey from here to Dol Amroth would be much easier, too", he pointed out delicately.

"Yes, it is very promising", Lothíriel said quietly and took a long sip of her cider again.

After they had finished their drinks, Déorwine insisted on escorting her back to the Golden Hall. She agreed to it and soon they were hiking uphill to Meduseld. Hot cider had warmed her up and lightened her mood, and so the conversation was pleasant enough, if a bit superficial. But he seemed to enjoy it a great deal, as though any bit of cordiality from her was treasured by him.

They halted at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to Meduseld. Lothíriel glanced up and wondered if Éowyn would be cornering her when she went inside. Would the White Lady think her frivolous? The idea horrified her. She wished she could explain this all to her friend. But in the end, what could she say? All her heart's misgivings were perhaps too delicate to reveal.

"Thank you for joining me today, my lady. It was very amiable indeed", he said, bowing at her.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lord", she replied and curtsied in turn.

Before she could say anything else, he suddenly picked up her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles. She was so taken aback, she almost jumped away from the contact. But realising what an impact such reaction would have, she was able to stand still.

"Until we meet again, my lady Lothíriel", he murmured before straightening himself again.

And even as he turned to take his leave, her gaze was drawn to the royal stables, and her eyes locked with a pair of dark, piercing eyes. At once, she knew that Éomer, only just returned from his errand, had seen the whole scene.

For whatever reason, her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach.

* * *

Bright morning's light streamed inside the Queen's solar. It gilded the surface of the table before Lothíriel, as well as her books and the neat pile of notes. The family tree of the Stewards of Gondor was topmost. It traced all the way back to Cirion, which was where space on the sheet had ended. She supposed it was fitting, in a way. What would Cirion and Eorl say if they knew that one day, their Houses would be united by their descendants?

Lothíriel had never envied Éowyn, but now she did, even if at the same time she was ashamed to feel such a thing. Her friend deserved all the happiness in the world. She deserved to have the love of Faramir, a man few could match. And yet how she yearned for that same faith and certitude her cousin and friend had in each other!

She glanced at the door, hoping that Éowyn would arrive soon. She didn't want to be alone with these thoughts. Like a coward, she ached to go back her bags and go straight home. Perhaps there, things would seem clearer.

In frustration she rubbed her face. Such loathsome, craven thoughts! She was better than this. And yet after these past few days, her head was so _full_ of everything and her heart so heavy to bear. How was she ever going to make it to spring? And how could she endure _him,_ in all his fierce, unattainable glory? There were a million things she wanted to tell him and yet she knew it was just better to keep her silence. She had to let him go, let him be free. Maybe that way, she could one day be free of _him,_ too.

At last, she could hear steps behind the door, and then it opened.

It was not Éowyn who came inside. Instead, there stood the King of Rohan himself.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** I did love this chapter, because being inside Lothíriel's head proved such fun! She's so clueless and she's so young, and all her reasonings are based on the idea that Éomer will never love her. So she lands with the idea that at least with Déorwine, her heart is safe.

The second reason for me loving this chapter is because it will be just delightful from Éomer's point of view in _Walk With Me In Winter._ There, I mean to show his thoughts considering their fallout and the reason he left so abruptly. I hope it will provide an essential addition to this chapter!

As ever, thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **sai19 -** I can't help it - I just love a cliffhanger every once in a while!

I think the essential wrong in her actions is not telling her friends. And that's why they get angry, too.

I hope you liked this chapter, even if it did not see the reconciliation!

 **WaxingintheDark** \- Thank you very much! That is the tone I more or less am attempting to create, this slow movemetnt from winter to spring that is in their characters.

Like you said, conflict is needed indeed, as it will help them to figure out a lot of things!

 **EStrunk -** I'm afraid he was a little bit too stubborn place before he could really get a talking from Éowyn!

I think Éomer would have some very serious riding skills, considering who he is and how he has spent half his life horseback. But this is another thing that will be discussed in the companion story!

 **Anon -** I'm afraid he has his own stubborn views to work through first! But we'll see hos things go now. :)

 **Cricket22 -** Here is a new chapter! I'm glad you liked the bit with _mearas,_ and I'm afraid Déorwine is not going to go away yet! Either way, your comment is much appreciated!

 **Hobbitpony1 -** I liked it very much as well! She's not having the best time, indeed!

 **Wtiger5 -** Wounded pride is surely a part of it, but it's not just the only thing! He has his reasons and I hope to explain it, both in this story and more in depth in _Walk With Me In Winter_ (which you can find at my profile).

 **Catspector -** I imagine it was difficult for her to receive his cricism. But both of them meant well, and maybe they'll realice that eventually!

 **frank . kilgenschmidt -** Thank you! :) I try to leave the stories at a point that makes the reader want to pursue the next part, after all!

As for your question/wondering, there's both her own thoughts inside the story, and also my own response: it's not that Lothíriel doesn't know their ranks are compatible and a union could be easily arranged. But she's enough of a romantic at heart to want him to choose her _because_ of herself, and like she muses to herself at the beginning of the chapter, she doesn't think that can ever happen. Moreover, she feels that the initiative should have to come from him, because it seems more appropriate (him being royalty and all) and very much because she's young and doesn't have an idea of how to approach a male with the intention of proposing to him. After the events of Harvest Feast and Éowyn's warning, she's probably even more uncertain about how to handle such a situation. Even if she did know how to go about it, there's also the matter of her insecurity: she's afraid it would ruin their friendship.

 **Wonderey -** We'll see how things go, then!

 **MoiraMcGregor -** Thank you for your comment! I'm afraid it's not so easy as an immediate apology. But I hope to clarify everything with _Walk With Me In Winter!_

 **Cricklewood16 -** Thank you very much! Thisis such a story that requires a slow advance. I'm glad you appreciate it! I'm glad you're reading the companion story. I think it will be more necessary than ever for this tale!

 **blasttyrant -** He does his best! I'll be clarifying all this in the side story, so hopefully that explains his reaction better!

 **SarahWeasley -** I do my best!

 **Jo -** Sorry to hear about your internet, but I'm glad you're back! I hope you liked the _mearas_ bit, as it was inspired by you. :)

 **Bell -** We'll see what he'll do now! In any case, thank you! It's important to me that my characters are 'round', as you so wonderfully said!

 **Doranwen -** I think he has a clue - the wrong one, that is!

 **Menelwen -** Thank you for your thoughts! I believe their reconciliation wil happen in due time. But Éomer's anger may be more than just pride, and I mean to explore that at least in the companion piece _Walk With Me In Winter._

Also I'm sorry about that double chapter! It was not my intention to cause such uncertainty.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Many moments passed in silence as neither of them spoke a word. Lothíriel sat frozen on her seat and she stared at Éomer in dread and anticipation. She felt a little like some small prey animal about to be devoured. But then she took notice of his expression: he did not seem angry at all. If anything, there was gravity and sadness on his features.

At last, Éomer spoke.

"May I talk to you?" he asked in soft tones, even if his question was direct and to the point. He stood still, feet apart and hands behind his back, lapsing into a warrior's stance even now. She wondered if he was aware of it at all.

She could only nod. Her mouth and throat felt too dry to produce a sound. A part of her would have liked to run out and hide somewhere. But that was such a cowardly thing to even think of, and she knew that she could not avoid him for the rest of her time in Rohan. And yet she shuddered when she merely thought of the possibility of another outburst and an argument.

He began to move, slowly as though he was wary of startling her. Without a word he took seat at the table, where Éowyn would so often sit. Lothíriel tried to decide whether she should be angry with her friend or not. Had she set this up?

"I wanted to apologise to you", Éomer said, cutting the line of her previous thought. At once, all her focus shifted back to him. She realised her fear had been for nothing. There was not the slightest aggression about him, none of that restless fire she had seen during the scene in his study. He just... he seemed remorseful.

He let out a sigh as a frown deepened on his brow.

"I have treated you horribly. The way I lashed out at you was not acceptable and I am truly sorry for hurting your feelings. I was stubborn and prideful and you deserve better than that. I should have let you explain your side, but I allowed my temper get the better of me, and... well, here we are. No king should act like I did, least of all when your intentions were nothing but good", he spoke slowly. There was a hardness about his features, but she knew that whatever it indicated, it was not anger directed at her.

His words caused the strangest sensation in her. She felt like something deep inside grew soft and warm again. Tension left her and she almost breathed out loud in relief.

"It doesn't matter what my intentions were. I acted wrongly, too, and for that I'm sorry. I was impulsive and disrespectful and you had a right to be angry with me. I should have offered my help first, not go behind your back. And at the very least, I should not have lost my nerve after choosing to act", she said quickly, having found her voice and her courage again. He wasn't a bad man, after all. Just a fierce, temperamental one, who felt things keenly, and was still learning what it meant to be a good king.

"Even so, it's no reason to behave so hideously. At the very least, I should have relented when you said it was for my sister", he said, still frowning in dismay.

It took her a second to understand his meaning. Then she remembered her parting words to him before she had rushed out of the royal study. _I was just trying to help my friend._

Heat spread across her cheeks. He had misunderstood her, then. Why did he doubt her friendship to him so much? What was he afraid of?

"I didn't mean that", Lothíriel uttered. "I was talking about you. It was all for you."

Éomer blinked. His frown made way to surprise and confusion, and his eyes regarded her so keenly that she had to look down. It was hard to meet his gaze when it was so... when it made her feel like any second, he would be able to read her deepest secrets and know how stupidly, how hopelessly she felt for him. And surely that would indeed be the end of any friendship that could ever be between them.

"Then that is all the more reason I should have listened to you. Lothíriel... you know this isn't easy for me. I never thought I'd become king. But so it happened and I want to do it right, no matter how difficult it is. I don't always know what is the right way. And so I may stumble every now and then, because I'm impatient and I do have a temper. Clearly this time, I fell face first. I just want you to know that I don't really think those things I said at the time. You're not cold or condescending; you could never have befriended Éowyn if it was so. I only hope that my stupid actions have not ruined our friendship", he said and sighed heavily. She could only imagine how hard it had been for him to say these things out loud. She knew his pride, and yet he was revealing his innermost thoughts so sincerely, even though they must be sore and hard on him.

"Nothing's ruined", she told him gently. "Thank you for saying this. It means a lot to me... and you know that I'm not wise or experienced and I didn't know what I was doing. I could only think of you and Rohan and everything I've come to hold dear about this land. And then I got so nervous and I didn't know how to explain. I want you to succeed, to become the king you want to be, and so I thought maybe I could help you to do that. I'm just a well-meaning fool and I was so desperate to help that I didn't stop to think before I acted."

His expression softened and something warm and dear appeared in his dark eyes. It made her chest feel tight, and she knew she had to say something before her voice was lost.

"One more thing", she said and studied him, feeling a little uncertain once more. "When the shipment arrives, I... I'd like you to not tell anyone about me arranging it."

Éomer looked at her in surprise.

"But whyever not? You are helping my people, though no one expected you to take action. It shouldn't go unknown and unpraised", he said firmly.

She shook her head.

"My method was not tactful or discreet enough. Well, I suppose you could say it was _very_ discreet, but in the absolutely wrong way. I was not respectful and I don't think Rohirrim, proud as they are, would take it kindly. I don't want to create any political controversy for you to deal with, my friend. People know Gondor has helped before, so use the names of my father or King Elessar, if anyone asks", she explained softly.

Éomer looked conflicted.

"My angry reaction really did put you out of sorts, didn't it? I'm so sorry, Lothíriel", he said in quiet, regretful voice. He let out a sigh. "Very well, then. I will respect your wish. But I still don't like it... people should know what you did for them."

"You'll know the truth. That's enough for me", she said simply and smiled a little bit.

His hand was resting on the table and quietly she reached to touch it, her fingers brushing against the skin above his knuckles. He turned his hand, so that his fingertips were against her palm, and vice versa. The hard calluses of his swordsman's hand were warm and reassuring. Even with their recent confrontation, he was still steadfast and she knew if any need ever arose, she could count on him.

A faintest smile smoothed his features and she thought she saw relief in his eyes. She knew then that their disagreement had burdened him, too.

"Will you promise to talk with me first, if ever the need should rise again?" he asked her. His fingers curled about hers ever so slightly, cradling them and pressing against them in a grip where their joined hands formed almost something like a fist. His hand felt huge around hers, and much harder and warmer. But it also felt _safe_.

"I will", she whispered and smiled at him at last.

* * *

Though reconciliation had been reached, there remained a certain tension in the air for several days that followed. Éomer seemed to be acting especially careful and choosing his words with unusual effort. It was strange, because Lothíriel wasn't used to him not being direct and sincere. But she guessed their recent quarrel had startled him just as much as it had her. Neither wanted to experience it again, and so it was perhaps to be expected that a time of particular prudence would commence. Hopefully, things would soon get back to way they used to be before King Elessar's letter had arrived and disrupted the calm.

Either way, Éowyn was happy and relieved when she heard they had reconciled. She did not make a number of it, though: she merely gave her friend a beaming smile and a tight hug. Lothíriel could only wonder what she had said to her brother about the affair.

In her own relief, Lothíriel nearly forgot about one thing: Déorwine was still in the city. And he surely had not forgotten about her. Two days after she had accompanied him to the markets, he came to call on her in Meduseld, and asked her to dine with him and his cousin's family. He looked hopeful and bright and she couldn't well refuse such a polite invitation, even though she felt like she was leading him on.

Her mind grew only more troubled as she was getting ready for the occasion later that same day. The quarrel and reconciliation with Éomer now made things clearer to her than they had been before. Similarly, she could better perceive the mistake she had made in agreeing to spend time with the Lord of Harrowdale during the King's absence. Déorwine could not be an option, not as long as Éomer lived and breathed. In Rohan, he was ever present, and attachment to a lord such as Déorwine's standing would surely expose her to the King in higher quantities than she could safely handle. It would poison her relationship with Déorwine and that was not the life he deserved.

She felt guilty. She had been giving him her time and encouragement, perhaps leading him to believe there was hope. And yet the moment Éomer said anything, she just forgot about this other man who felt so lost with the life and duties he was now obliged to carry. Déorwine had done nothing to earn such treatment from her.

The thing was, no one had actually advised her in these matters before Éowyn. Her father and brothers either still thought of her as an ignorant child, or would surround her in such a way that any interested male would quickly be discouraged from approaching her. As she was not used to thinking of herself as a desirable specimen, she had not known how to behave herself. And then there were all her convictions about Éomer... having his favour made all the difference in the world compared to thinking she had lost his friendship for good. All in all, she had believed herself so level-headed that she could easily manage attention – or the lack of it – from Rohirric males, but clearly it had been an overestimation.

Lothíriel sighed heavily and smoothed non-existent wrinkles from the front of her dark blue gown. It was one of the plainer ones she had brought with her, and she wore only studded pearls in her ears. She wasn't going to give Déorwine any more false hope tonight. Instead, she would try to find an opportunity to apologise and make it clear how very unavailable she was.

She was relieved not to see Éowyn in the hall once she had dressed in her cloak and was making her way outside. They had not spoken of Lord Déorwine lately, but she knew her friend had her own notions about the affair. Well, hopefully after tonight it would not be an issue anymore.

Her resident Swan Knights escorted her to the home of Déorwine's cousin. The two of them were eagerly waiting for her at the door, and then she was ushered inside to meet Haelana's husband. He was a tall man with arms like tree trunks and bushy beard. Behind it, his blue eyes twinkled with a friendly light. He was one of the hands in royal stables, which explained the faint smell of straw and horses that clung to him. His Westron was halting but his manners were not.

As the children were already in bed, they were left to dine between four of them. Haelana and her husband seemed genuinely happy to host the meal and their warm relationship was a delight to observe. Often Guthere stumbled over words, and then he looked at his wife for help; for a moment they spoke so quickly in Rohirric that Lothíriel couldn't make out half of it, until Haelana provided a translation of what her husband had meant to say. Conversation between the party was lively and light, and often peppered with laughter. Food was simple but delicious, with a homely feel to it, and Haelana's cider crisp and fresh. It was all simple and hearty and just good, and Lothíriel could not help but feel the occasional pang of envy.

Lord Déorwine too was in a happy mood, joining her cousin's joking and laughing in earnest. It made Lothíriel feel her guilt even more intensely, knowing what she was going to have to tell him. Would that he could have met some nice Gondorian girl at King Théoden's funeral!

Be that as it may, she tried to smile and participate in conversations; there was no reason to disrespect Haelana and Guthere's efforts by being quiet and unhappy. And, thanks to the couple's friendliness and Déorwine's charming manners, the night was in fact quite pleasant.

No chance to speak alone with Déorwine came – the house was too tiny for privacy – but fortunately, he insisted to come along to escort her back to Meduseld.

As soon as Guthere had closed the door behind them, Lothíriel gave a sign to the Knights to keep their distance. This they did and she cast a long glance at the dark-haired horselord walking by her side.

"I would like to thank you for tonight, my lord. It was very nice", she began carefully, trying to find the words that would hurt his feelings the least. "But that being said, there is something I must say to you."

"What is it, my lady?" he asked and she saw a humourless smile dawn on his features. Perhaps he already knew what she was going to say.

Lothíriel swallowed hard. No one had ever told her how hard it was to let down a good man.

"I know my actions these past few days have probably made some wrong implications. I'm very sorry for that. But I must be sincere with you, and I would just like to re-state what I told you after the Harvest Feast. I cannot be courting now or make any promises of future. If you wish to end our acquaintance here, I will understand", she said, her voice faltering ever now and then as she spoke. She felt so young and so foolish and it would be a wonder if she ever dared to speak to males again.

Déorwine let out a long, heavy sigh. The look in his eyes became regretful.

"Make no mistake, my lady – I have not forgotten what you told me then, and neither did I fancy myself having the power of truly changing your mind... even if it was my hope. I too must apologise. It wasn't my intention to make you feel like you are obliged just because you have agreed to spend time with me. Despite all, I do wish for your friendship, at least", he said nevertheless, masking his disappointment so well that only the faintest shade of it touched his features.

He was a decent fellow, she thought. A more prideful and self-important man would probably have reacted with scorn and anger before storming away. On the other hand, him taking her refusal so quietly made her wonder at how little attached to her he was in the first place. Someone else could easily come and take her place... and like she had already discovered, that was not the kind of marriage she wanted.

Even so, he had spared her from a great deal of dismay and humiliation. There were worse things in the world.

"Thank you, my lord Déorwine. You have been more tactful and discreet than I deserve", she said, giving him a small smile. He returned it, more or less.

"Well, I'm the one who made advances in the first place. If one does, one must also be prepared for disappointment", he stated mildly.

"I could name some lords back in Gondor who are not familiar with the concept", she said, hoping to lighten the mood a little bit. She might not personally know about it, but she had ears, and gossip was abundant in the court of Gondor. She glanced at him and murmured, "A lady does appreciate the attention given to her feelings."

"Are yours noticed only rarely, my lady?" he asked abruptly, much to her surprise. At first, she didn't know what to answer.

"Perhaps less than one might hope", she said at length, gazing straight ahead. "But that may be more because I'm youngest of four children, and the only girl at that. It easily becomes a situation where one gets left behind a lot. So you might understand why one can sometimes act like I have."

"That is most unfortunate and undeserved. Yet I understand it better than you might guess, my lady. Dúnhere my brother was the warrior and a shining leader, while I was the strange one with my longing for things beyond what eyes could see... but enough of that, I think. Your time will come, too, and I wish it may be more to you own design than mine turned out to be", said Déorwine, and his tone was more than a little bittersweet.

They had now reached the courtyard of Meduseld. It had quieted down considerably from the bustle of daytime, but servants and guards were still about. They paid the two only a passing glance.

"If I may ask", he said then, just as she was about to bid him good night, "Do you refuse courtship because there already is somebody else?"

Lothíriel felt heat rise up her neck and she quickly hid her face behind her hair. He guessed much too close to the truth than she liked.

"I'm not at liberty to say, my lord", she uttered in a quiet voice. No need to fill his ears with heartache about another man – who also happened to be the King of Rohan himself. She didn't want Déorwine to feel resentful at his liege-lord. In the end, all of this would go away when she returned to Gondor. But on the other hand, her evasion probably revealed enough.

"All right. I hope this is not the end of our friendship, however else things may be. Good night, Lady Lothíriel", he said and bowed with as much flair and charm as any Gondorian lord.

"My friendship is ever yours, Lord Déorwine", she said and curtsied. "Good night to you as well."

* * *

Lothíriel woke to the new morning in higher spirits than in some time. There was much to be glad about: she and Éomer had reconciled and last night, she had been able to make her position clear to Lord Déorwine. He had taken her refusal more graciously than she had dared to hope, even insisted they were still friends. Moreover, she now knew for sure that the goods she had sent for were on their way and the issue was no longer unknown to her friends.

Things were well indeed. Only one cause of dismay remained, and that she was determined to endure. At least _he_ was still her friend and her actions had not ruined everything.

Éowyn too was in a good mood. She was smiling brightly when Lothíriel came to join her and Éomer at breakfast, and suggested they have a lesson after the meal. Lothíriel readily agreed and flashed a quick, shy smile at the direction of the King of Rohan. Having experienced the brunt of his anger, she was all the more appreciative of this new-found peace.

So the two women holed up again in the Queen's solar and spent the morning going over the complex protocol and hierarchy of the court of Gondor. Éowyn made a lot of questions, often challenging Lothíriel's words. Even after they had studied the noble houses of Gondor, it was not always clear which family came first in the rank order. To Éowyn it all made little to no sense, which invoked some friendly banter between them.

"Trust it to Gondorians to make up such senseless systems in their leisure. How do you keep up with this at all?" asked Éowyn, though her eyes glinted.

"Let's just say it was a good thing our forefathers had long life-spans", Lothíriel answered and shook her head.

She then continued and smiled faintly, "You'll be in a particularly thankful position anyway – the Steward's House is second only to the ruling family, and I imagine you being their friend, the sister of King Éomer and the Slayer of the Witch-king will earn you a lasting permit to do as you wish."

There was a wicked glint in Éowyn's eyes.

"You think so? I shall remember that", she said and let out a low, throaty laugh.

"I'm sure you'll let Faramir know, too", Lothíriel quipped, her smile growing.

"Oh, he shan't ever forget it. Still, I must admit I'm glad to have such a lifetime permit. No matter how well you teach me, I will slip sooner or later. I know I will. There's too much Rohan in me and I can't – I won't – dispose of it", Éowyn stated in a more serious voice.

"And that was never the point of this in the first place. Rohan is part of who you are, just as Gondor is a part of me. We're not trying to turn you into somebody else, Éowyn, but to help you out and hopefully make it a little easier when you take your place by Faramir's side", Lothíriel said emphatically.

Her words made Éowyn smile again. The White Lady opened her mouth to say something, but she never got the words out; there was a frantic rapping at the door.

"What is it?" Éowyn said and a faint crease on her brow showed her displeasure at being so interrupted.

A guard peeked inside. His face was flushed and excited.

"My lady, your brother the King summons you. There is something in the courtyard you should see", he said, sounding breathless as though he had ran all the way from outside.

The two women exchanged a glance and got up simultaneously. Whatever warranted such a hasty summon had to be important.

So they made haste on their way through the Hall. Éowyn's face was half in fear, half in hope. Lothíriel had to pick up the hems of her skirts to keep up with her taller friend.

Guards opened the doors for them and they reached the terrace overlooking the city. Down in the courtyard there was quite a bustle and a crowd. No less than four wagons were in line, all packed full and tightly covered in sturdy oiled cloth. About them were guards wearing the colours of Dol Amroth.

Lothíriel's heart skipped a beat. She almost laughed out loud.

Éowyn let out a high-pitched squeal. In the same moment as she began to run down the steps, Éomer's voice rose: "Sister! My lady Lothíriel! Come here, please!"

Way was made for the two friends, though Lothíriel wasn't sure how it was possible – there were so many people gathered around. There was definite excitement in the air and every face she could see shined with hope.

They reached Éomer in the middle of crowd. Next to him stood a tall man in chain-mail, blue overcoat and a silver-grey cloak. She recognised him as an officer, most likely the one in charge of this company.

"This is Sergeant Raendir of Dol Amroth. Prince Imrahil tasked him and his group to escort a shipment of food aid to our land", Éomer introduced the man. When mentioning the name of her father, he gave her a meaningful look. But only she and Éowyn knew what it signified.

"Well met, Sergeant. How fares my father? Is Dol Amroth still standing?" Lothíriel asked, smiling as she spoke. The man before her was almost like a breath from the sea, reminding her so much of home. He was tall and dark-haired with sea grey eyes, betraying his Númenórean blood. Perhaps he was the second or third son of some lord of Belfalas, wishing to make his fortune in the service of Dol Amroth.

"He was well when we spoke last. I have some letters from him and the young lords for you, my lady", said Raendir. "As for the city, she is as ever – a true jewel in the crown of Gondor. After a bright summer we were given a mild autumn."

A pang of longing went through her when she thought of Dol Amroth, but she put aside this feeling.

"My father has been even more generous in sending provisions than I had dared to hope. What goods do you bring?" she wanted to know.

"Dried and salted fish, smoked hams, many barrels of grain, sacks of potatoes and other root vegetables, and different kinds of preserves. Summer was abundant in Belfalas and we have plenty to share", said the sergeant. Lothíriel nodded in satisfaction. The goods were hearty stuff that kept well, just as she had hoped for when writing her message.

"And Rohan will not forget it. Thank you for bringing these provisions safely to Edoras", Éowyn said. Her face was beaming and she looked like she might just throw her arms around the dark-haired soldier and give him a tight hug.

There was a strange shift on Raendir's face.

"About that... there was a moment I wasn't sure if we could carry out our task", he said in a lowered voice.

"What do you mean, sergeant?" Éomer asked, frowning as he sensed some trouble in the air.

"The day after we had crossed Mering Stream", Raendir said, so quiet now that Lothíriel and Éowyn had to lean closer, "Our scout discovered a band of orcs in our trail. A famished pack, as they appeared, but they had a few uruk-hai among them and orcs grow only more rabid when driven by hunger. Heavy, slow-moving wagons were quite the prize for them, I imagine."

"And what happened?" Éomer wanted to know. His voice was now more fierce.

"The most curious thing happened, Sire. That same night, our company was surrounded by a pack of horses. I've not seen their like before, and neither have most of the men under my command – taller than any of our mounts, and with intelligence in their eyes that is uncommon in animals. I even thought they shimmered a little bit in moonlight. But one of the lads by the name of Feinor, who fought before the walls of Minas Tirith against the onslaught of Mordor, said that Mithrandir used to ride a stallion like that. A magic horse from the North, he called it", Raendir continued his story and nodded at one man standing not far of them; guessing he was being discussed, Feinor lifted his hand in greeting.

Éowyn cast Lothíriel a wide-eyed look, but Éomer's gaze was now fixed on Raendir.

"What did these strange horses do?" was his next question.

"Not much, in fact. They simply stayed with us, and followed nearby for the next few days. They kept their distance, though, never allowing any of us close enough to touch them. Then one morning they were gone and we did not see them again. Either way, those orcs never got close to us. It's like they were afraid. Mind you, I didn't think magic horses existed. But seeing that pack escorting us like some kind of a guard... I might just believe it", Raendir said and shook his head, as though he still only half-believed what had taken place.

Éomer was silent for a long moment and so was Éowyn. Both their expressions spoke in volumes, though, and Lothíriel could only imagine what her own face betrayed.

"Brother, do you realise what this means?" Éowyn spoke, lapsing into Rohirric in her state of shock and wonder.

"I'm not sure anyone does", he managed in a quiet voice at length. He cleared his throat and looked about himself, appearing more steady and resolute again. But Lothíriel saw the strange, bright light in his eyes, and she knew how hard a time he was having in keeping himself in control.

"Prepare food and lodgings for these men. They are our honoured guests tonight", he announced, and at his command, things began to happen both in the Hall and the courtyard.

Down the street, the newest rumour of _mearas_ was already spreading.

* * *

Edoras remained in a state of uproar for the rest of the day. Éomer and Éowyn were busy, what with the amount of guests and also the matter of examining the goods send from Dol Amroth and organising how they would be distributed. Lothíriel made her exit for the time being, as the sergeant had given her a pile of letters from home.

She opened Father's letter first, which was also the longest. Its grave tone became clear almost at the very first words. Her sire was not exactly scolding her, but it wasn't far from it – even though his words were nothing she hadn't already heard. He wanted to know if he had asked for Éomer's blessing before acting, and warned her against going behind his back. Éomer was proud and stubborn, Father said, and these did not make a good mixture if his anger was provoked. Even so, he had decided to do as she requested. He knew she would not write such a letter unless in true need, and King Elessar had also communicated his worry over the situation in Rohan.

Though her father did not sound entirely pleased about her actions and he had guessed exactly how Éomer would react, on this hour of joy and relief she did not feel dismay. She and him had reconciled and the goods had arrived safely. All was well.

Dinner in the Golden Hall resembled more of a feast, even if the spread on the tables was not opulent. People's mood was high and hopeful, and no wonder. With the aid from Dol Amroth, all villages in need could be provided for and the winter would pass without anyone starving. And as if that was not enough, now _mearas_ has made another appearance. And what an appearance it had been! Lothíriel thought to herself, if this did not convince Éomer and his people of his worth, then nothing would.

The hall was crowded thanks to the addition of the party from Dol Amroth. Sergeant Raendir had the seat of honour next to Éomer, and they spent most of the meal in deep conversation. In lower tables laughter and eager chatter rose and fell. From the way Rohirrim kept congratulating the Amrothian company, one might have thought they had cut their way through a dozen hordes of orcs to get here. Over and over again the story of _mearas_ escorting the food shipment was told, and Lothíriel knew it was not long before whole of Rohan was privy to this news. No doubt the tale was already getting a few fantastic spins on it, but that would probably only work to Éomer's benefit.

When the meal was finished, Lothíriel was about to bid good night to her friends and take her leave. But Éowyn, knowing her intention, touched her forearm.

"Stay awhile. It's a special night", she insisted with a bright smile on her face. And seeing how happy both she and her brother were tonight, how could Lothíriel refuse?

Tables were cleared away but benches were left as seats for the people, and for a while there seemed to be free mingling going on. Lothíriel found herself by the good sergeant and he was glad to tell her about the journey from Dol Amroth, as she had not yet had a chance to hear it in his own words except for the part with _mearas_. Idly she thought of Déorwine and how disappointed he would be to hear he had missed this occasion, but she knew he had ridden back to Harrowdale this very morning.

The conversation came to an end as Éowyn appeared to her side, telling her the King's own bard would be singing soon, and she was eager that Lothíriel would join her to listen to him. And so Lothíriel found herself seated on a long bench between Éowyn and Éomer. It was a bit crowded, and she was extremely aware of his side pressing against her, but then the bard stepped forth and declared he would sing about another difficult winter and how it had ended in salvation.

First notes of the song were long and grim, just as the dark time it described. The first line of the Kings of Rohan had ended in that winter, when Helm Hammerhand and his sons had perished and Dunlendings had taken even Edoras the seat of kings. But she knew the song ended in spring: Fréaláf Hildeson would ride out of Dunharrow and free the land again.

The crowd listened in silence, their faces as grave as though this was the first time they heard this tale – as though they still felt the grief and loss of their forefathers. But when the bard reached the last part of the song where Fréaláf restored the House of Eorl in Meduseld, he lifted his hand, and all the Rohirrim close by raised their voices with him. Éomer and Éowyn did too, his a low, rich baritone and hers a lovely soprano. As they reached the final lines of the song, they shared a look between them that spoke in volumes. Lothíriel lowered her eyes.

When the song ended, the bard made way to another figure. Lady Scýne, Éothain's wife, took the centre spot. The crowd quieted as the bard sounded the first notes on his harp. Now Lady Scýne began to sing soft and slow, and her voice was deep and melodious; the tune almost resembled a lullaby. It was the song of Hild, Fréaláf's mother, and in it she was giving him advice on how to become a good king. Stillness fell on Lothíriel, just as it seemed to come everyone nearby, like these were words too sacred to disrupt.

Lothíriel let out a sigh. When had her head became so heavy to hold up? It had been such a long, eventful day, and she had got up early this morning. Before she knew it, she was dozing off to Scýne's soothing voice. Her cheek pressed against something warm and solid. A familiar, musky smell filled her nose as she breathed. It was comforting. On the verge of sleep, she felt peaceful and calm.

But just then a gentle hand shook her, startling her back to full consciousness. Blinking in confusion, she met a pair of gentle dark eyes.

"Sorry to disturb you", Éomer said quietly, "but wouldn't you rather sleep in your bed than on this bench?"

Lothíriel looked at him in stupid confusion, until she understood: she had almost fallen asleep against his shoulder! And then the image came, painfully clear and wistful. She pictured him picking her up from the bench and carrying her to bed...

She shook her head. She was staring at him and daydreaming like some foolish thing.

"Yes, of course", she was able to speak at last, feeling heat spread on her cheeks. "Thank you for waking me up."

Lothíriel stood up, but her feet had fallen asleep with her head, and so she nearly stumbled. Her hand sought for support and found it at once. And she knew the pressure of that hard, strong palm as soon as she felt it. Her heart skipped a beat, and she realised it was because he never touched her, unless she did first.

"Are you all right?" he asked her, but she couldn't meet his eyes again when she still felt the fabric of his tunic against her cheek and the warmth of his hand on her own.

"I'm fine. Still half asleep, I suppose", she said and smiled wanly. "Good night."

"Good night", he replied and withdrew his hand. She pressed her own against her chest. The skin of her fingers was still tingling.

Lothíriel made her way through the crowded hall and then to her room. There she practically flew across the floor, collapsed on the bed on her stomach, and groaned out loud: _"Oh, Béma!"_

* * *

At the breakfast next morning, Lothíriel learnt that the King and his Company were riding out with the shipment as soon as possible.

"I am not going to risk the chance of another attack. This time, I'm going to make sure these goods find their way to those who need them", Éomer said, resolute and energetic. He practically wolfed down his meal and then hurried away, probably to get ready for the journey.

Lothíriel watched him go, though she tried to keep her stare discreet. No, he had not felt anything special last night. It was just her and her silly infatuation, letting herself grow so flustered over the way she had almost fallen asleep against him and then taken support from his offered hand.

She lowered her eyes and stared at her half-eaten porridge. Éowyn asked if everything was all right, but she was quick to dismiss the matter. Her voice sounded fake even to herself.

All the same, they both went to send Éomer on his way when he emerged from the King's rooms again. Fully armoured now, he looked eager to get going. Captain Éothain strode by his side, carrying both their helmets under his arms. Éowyn took the other side of her brother, and Lothíriel followed close by, though she felt like she did not really belong in this moment.

Outside, quite the company was gathered. Amrothians and Rohirric Knights alike surrounded the wagons. Most of the men sent by her father would carry on the journey. Few would remain behind, as they had got sick on the way and were too weak to continue. All the same, a band of orcs or any bandits for that matter would have to be truly desperate to assault this particular escort.

The atmosphere was high and hopeful in the courtyard. Many onlookers were gathered and they were talking in soft voices among themselves. As he made his way down the steps, Éomer was fast giving orders. His presence electrified the mood and even horses seemed to stand more alert, stomping their feet and snorting in anticipation.

The King of Rohan exchanged a few more words with his captain and his sister, whom he embraced warmly. Lothíriel fully expected him to leap straight into saddle. However, he turned to look at her and took a few steps to close the distance between them.

"I wanted to thank you, Lothíriel. After I reacted so poorly before, I'm not sure you know how grateful I am for you helping us", he said in low tones. He looked about himself and the four loaded wagons before fixing his eyes on her again, "All this... it's hard to believe my eyes. This is more than I could ever hope for, and that is quite something. I'm not used to good things happening. You've removed such a weight from my shoulders, even though you had no obligation."

So he spoke and his voice grew more heated as he went on. Then, as if he suddenly became aware of his tone, Éomer halted. He let out a deep breath.

"I am in your debt. If there's anything I can ever do for you, Lothíriel, you only need to say so", he finally said and bent himself into a bow much more graceful one might expect from a northern warrior king.

Her cheeks felt hot at his praise. In embarrassed voice, she stammered a few disjointed words on how she hadn't really done much, he should thank her father instead, and she was pleased to help him in any way she could.

But Éomer smiled, and she felt the agony of just wanting to throw her arms around him and sob in his ear how much she loved him, and yet she knew better than to do something so stupid. There he stood, so tall and fully armoured and his golden hair streaming down his shoulders, all strength and vigour and fire. Such glory was painful to look at, and yet she couldn't turn her eyes away.

"It was you who took action. That is what matters to me", he said softly. Then he reached his hand for her, caught her fingers in his, and kissed her knuckles. All she could think of how warm and soft his lips were and the unfamiliar sensation of his beard scratching against her skin. It was the briefest moment, and yet she still forgot about everything else in the world. She felt light-headed, almost to the point where she reached to take support of him. But she kept her hands to herself and swayed on the balls of her feet.

"Stay safe", she uttered in a strangled voice as she pressed her hand, the one he had kissed, against her midsection. It felt like burning.

"Always", he said, still smiling. Then he turned away.

He never touched her. But now her hand burned and tingled in the memory of his touch, and fiercely she battled herself. She might have him, if she just asked her father to suggest a union between their Houses. It was even possible his gratitude would persuade him to consent. _She might have him._

Yet the truth could not be denied. Such an unrequited love for a man like him could only ever be a slow death.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here's an update! I hope you all liked it. :)

It was very satisfactory for me to write that first part of the chapter, where Éomer and Lothíriel speak things through and apologise to one another. I imagine they are both quite relieved to have it resolved like this.

Moreover, it also helps her to figure out what to do about Déorwine. She realises she can never be the wife he wants as long as she has feelings for Éomer, and also that it's unfair to string him along. But like she muses to herself, it's not like she has been instructed before how to deal with males interested in her. As well-meaning as her father and brothers are, I believe they have been fairly overprotective of her, and as no one has ever given her guidance in this regard, she's more than a little lost with both Éomer and Déorwine.

Some of my readers have mentioned not liking Déorwine, but I hope the few little moments between Éomer and Lothíriel make up for his presence. ;)

The songs about Helm Hammerhand, his sons, Fréaláf Hildeson and Hild refer to a period in Rohan's history called the Long Winter. During it, Dunlendings aided by Easterlings attacked Rohan and managed even to take Edoras. Meanwhile, Helm Hammerhand the rightful king held the fortress in what would later become known as Helm's Deep. Both his sons were killed and he too died of cold and starvation. However, in spring Helm's sister-son Fréaláf, who had taken shelter in Dunharrow, rode out and took back Edoras and eventually defeated the invaders. He then became the new King of Rohan, thus starting the second line of kings which ended with Théoden in the War of the Ring.

Thank you for reading and reviewing! As always, I'm eager to know what you think. :)

* * *

 **Hobbitpony1 -** I hope this is a little calmer chapter, at least! But you are right, Lothíriel really is quite lost with all the new sensations.

I think at this point Éowyn does regard Lothíriel as a sister. I believe she has not connected with other women like this before, which makes the relationship all the more meaningful to her. And as Lothíriel has previously been such support to her, she wants to do the same for her when it's necessary.

 **sai19 -** His head is cleared indeed! I think the poor man just needed a moment to calm down. Still, I imagine seeing her with Déorwine may not help in the way one might think!

 **frank . kilgenschmidt -** Happy to clear things up! :)

Well, as irrational as her behaviour may seem, it's just that's she's very young and doesn't know how to handle the situation. While she is able to determine Déorwine's character and intentions pretty well, she definitely has a blind spot when it comes to Éomer.

 **EStrunk -** I hope you liked their conversation! I have to admit, Éomer doing some chasing down or growling is pretty amusing! :D

 **Serni -** Thanks! I'm glad to hear you think so. :) I did wonder if her musings would make sense to the reader, so it's good to know it checks out.

There doesn't seem to be getting together in the near future, but we'll see how that works out!

 **Cricklewood16 -** I hope you liked the conversation! I at least enjoyed writing that bit very much. :)

Anyway, I do try to keep this and the companion story in appropriate pace, so that not too much is revealed too soon.

Poor Déorwine, he really can't get any love from anyone, can he?

 **Aylatha -** Thanks for pointing it out! I'll try to fix it ASAP. :)

I'm glad to hear you're enjoying the story!

 **Golden Haired Ravenclaw -** Is that a good or a bad thing? :D

 **Anon -** Happy to hear it! :)

I think her youth, and this being the first time she experiences heartbreak, it feels all the more poignant to her. She's been so sheltered and beloved by her family, she wasn't at all prepared for this. The reason she is not (yet) talking to Éowyn is probably because she's Éomer's sister, and while Lothíriel absolutely trusts her, it's basically because she feels like it would put Éowyn in a difficult position.

Also you are correct about her having this experience of loneliness. While her family does love her very much, they still see her as this young girl they need to shelter.

 **Wondereye -** Thank you!

 **Catspecter -** It was fun to write, too. But I think she knows now that she's not really safe from her true feelings, not at least in Rohan. Instead, she begins to consider that the only way to endure it is to eventually leave Rohan altogether.

 **Doranwen -** Poor girl tries her best, but she's a little bit confused! She's not the only one though - I believe Éomer has his own fair share of confusion, too!

 **Wtiger5 -** Yes, all this is really something she doesn't know how to talk about, not even to Éowyn. But I hope you liked their conversation and reconciliation! :)

 **SarahWeasley -** Here goes! :)

 **QueenLiVII -** Thank you! Glad to hear Lothíriel's perspective is so easy to understand. :)

 **Menelwen -** She does her best, indeed! :) I do hope you enjoyed their talk and making up.

Poor Déorwine! No one seems to like him!

 **Galenrandir -** I hope you liked this chapter, then! :)

 **Aquilara -** Happy to hear you enjoy the story! :)

Also I hope you liked their conversation. Éomer has calmed down now and he's anything but harsh! While he can be harsh when he's angry, his nature is not inherently cruel. And he can very well see now how good her intentions were.

Anyway, I'm so glad that the story has made such an impression, and I hope you continue to enjoy it!

 **Jo -** Thanks! :) I think Éowyn is still on the fence whether or not she should interfere, but we'll see how that goes!


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The two weeks that followed passed by in a slow haze. With the food aid on its way, peace had returned to Edoras and the capital was mostly focused in getting ready for the nearing winter. Éowyn had more time for lessons as well, but those were not quite as intense as before. The two women had already covered a great deal of things she ought to learn, and Éowyn could recall all that she had been taught so far exceptionally well. Whenever Lothíriel questioned her friend about this or that thing, Éowyn had answers at the ready. Most she struggled with was with Sindarin, often complaining about the incomprehensible grammar.

Outside the lessons, Lothíriel felt listless more often than not, preferring the solitude of her chamber over seeking the company of Éowyn, Lady Scýne and Hild. There she curled up on her bed or in the chair, brooding over the ache that slowly throbbed in her chest. It was pathetic, yes. But this had never happened to her before, and it was bewildering to both yearn for the next time she'd see _him_ and wish that he might stay away until spring.

Before leaving, he had told her he was in her debt, and he would do anything she ever required of him. But of course, she could not ask him to love her.

Could she talk to Éowyn about it? Probably. She knew the White Lady would be nothing but kind and understanding and supportive. But then, she _was_ his sister, and she had her own concerns. No need to add with this silly little infatuation to it and make things uncomfortable for all three of them. Had Éowyn's brother been anyone else, Lothíriel would have confided in her in a heartbeat. However, she had seen the closeness between Éowyn and her older sibling, and she'd die before burdening that relationship with her own troubles. After all, they had so little time left together.

So passed the days without any news of him. until one afternoon in the Queen's solar Éowyn decided to relate some contents of Éomer's latest letter to Lothíriel. She was seated at the table presently and her eyes were idly wandering about the open books and bits and pieces of notes spread before her, trying to decide where to pick up next. Meanwhile, Éowyn walked about the table as she read her brother's message.

"He doesn't know yet when he can come home", Éowyn started, eyes transfixed on the letter, "they still haven't distributed all the goods to villages. He wants to be close by in case. And he's having meetings with Dunlendings. It's slow going, though. Both sides are so mistrustful, and they have all these precautions in case of treachery. Not all the folk of West-Mark are happy about these meetings and it takes some effort to keep them happy."

She read forward and glanced at Lothíriel.

"He asks me to say hello to you for him. He wants to know we're well", Éowyn said. A slight frown formed on her brow and she went on, "How are you, though? You look pale. I hope you aren't getting sick."

"I'm fine. I suppose it's just the weather taking its toll", Lothíriel said and conjured a smile. How much did her friend guess? Éowyn was not a fool, and she had a vantage point both to her and to Éomer. But Lothíriel decided she wouldn't say anything unless Éowyn directly asked whether she had feelings for him or not.

"Are your rooms warm enough? And your clothes?" Éowyn asked in concern.

"Everything's perfectly satisfactory. Maybe I'm just more squeamish than I thought", Lothíriel said dismissively.

Her friend looked doubtful until she let out a sigh.

"Well, you must tell me if you feel ill. I'd hate to have our honoured guest spending the winter bedridden", she said and fixed her eyes on the letter again.

Slowly, Lothíriel let out a breath she had been holding. She hated to have to be secretive and dishonest. But there simply were not better alternatives at the moment. Maybe she could tell Éowyn everything once spring came and they travelled to Gondor. Would her friend be angry with her for not confiding sooner? Éowyn wasn't as hot-tempered as Éomer, but she had fire in her, too.

Either way, it seemed that she had dug herself into a pit and now she was not sure how to climb out of it.

* * *

Days lengthened and so did Éomer's absence. What a curious thing it was, being torn between missing him and logic telling her she had it easier while he was gone. She wondered if he ever thought of her beyond the common courtesy of sending his greetings by the letters he wrote for Éowyn. Sullenly she decided he was probably too busy to even recall her for the most of the time.

Winds turned and came from the north, bringing new chill with them. Lands froze and in the morning, there was frost on grass and ground. But mornings could be exceedingly fair as the skies lit up in hues so bright and pale that Lothíriel had not imagined their like before. Snows crept ever lower on the mountainsides, but sunlight coloured them in mornings and evenings in brilliant tones. When Lothíriel had previously imagined winter, she had just pictured dull whiteness that covered all. She had never thought it could actually be so abundant in colour.

Then a faint cover of snow came fell on Edoras one night, and she woke up to such brightness as was wholly unfamiliar. She felt almost childlike wonder at the sight, though Éowyn told her it would soon be gone. First snow rarely remained very long – which probably explained why it was teeming with children. Despite herself, she imagined what it would feel like to see her own child among them.

But the arrival of first snow also meant that Yuletide was approaching fast. And there was no word of Éomer's imminent return. Concern grew on Éowyn's face as her eyes lingered in the western horizon. Same fear as before the Harvest Feast rose to her, and Lothíriel worried the events would repeat themselves: that Éomer would do something reckless in his haste to get back to Edoras in time.

Thus an idea began to form in her mind, and carefully she made some clarifying questions to Éowyn when they had returned from a brisk walk outside and were warming up by a fire in the Queen's solar. It had now been a month since Éomer had departed.

"Where is your brother staying at this time?" she wanted to know.

"He divides his time between the Hornburg in Helm's Deep and the Isen. He has been to Isengard, too, as he wants to keep Treebeard up to date. It's good to keep in good terms with them, Éomer says. All the same, there are quite a few in the need of him. Many people are spending the winter in the old fortress, because they have not been able to complete rebuilding all the villages and homesteads that were burnt by Saruman's servants. And the situation with the Dunlendings is ever volatile", Éowyn replied. A shadow passed across her features, and Lothíriel guessed her friend was afraid open war would start. She didn't know the details of what was happening at Rohan's western borders, but it must be truly delicate to cause such worry – and to make Éomer so unwilling to leave the West-Mark for the time being.

The year had not been easy on the people of Westfold. Even with the aid from Dol Amroth, their winter would still be long and trying. When would reprieve come for them, if not at Yuletide?

"What's Hornburg like?" Lothíriel asked. She had heard stories, of course, but those usually focused either on the famous Battle of Helm's Deep, or the majesty of the ancient fortress.

"It's chilly and dismal. Its halls are vast but dark and unwelcoming, though generations of Rohirrim have tried to bring some beauty and light into it. I never liked the place, personally. There's no denying the strength of the Hornburg, though it's somewhat diminished after the army from Isengard breached the walls. I suppose the caves there are quite beautiful – Gimli the Dwarf surely thought so – but if you prefer the free plains of the Mark, Helm's Deep is not the place you'll be wanting to spend a lot of your time", Éowyn said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

It sounded unpleasant, and Lothíriel shuddered involuntarily. A fortress of stone could not be a cosy dwelling in this climate. And that was where Éomer was like to spend his Yule, as it seemed at the moment! The idea fortified her conviction.

"Do you think your brother will be able to come home in time?" she asked.

"I don't know. And even if he does, he is probably going to be uneasy and worry over everything that could go wrong at the border", Éowyn said and shook her head.

For a while, Lothíriel said nothing, but sat in silence and built up her argument. To her it seemed beautifully simple, but no doubt Éowyn would be quick to point out the problems. And she did not want to come across as forceful. She was guest in Rohan and the reason she even thought of suggesting this was to humour her friends, not herself.

"Éowyn... do you think he would like it if we travelled to the Hornburg instead, and spent Yuletide there with him?" she asked at last, soft and careful.

The White Lady looked at her surprise. At first she didn't seem to know what to say.

"He'll be annoyed at first", Éowyn started slowly. "Tell us it was foolish to make the journey, and that I should know better than to drag you along. What if something happened to us on the road? But he'll calm down soon enough, and realise how glad he is to have our company."

"The usual, then", Lothíriel said in gentle humour. Somehow, she was no longer afraid of provoking his temper.

"That lad never stops worrying", Éowyn muttered and rolled her eyes. Then she fixed her gaze on Lothíriel again, "But it might not be the worst idea. If we go spend Yuletide in the Hornburg, he'll be able to stay close to Isen if any need arises, and we still get to be together. To tell you the truth, I think people of Westfold could use something like this. The year has been grim for them indeed."

"I hoped you would think so, too", Lothíriel said, smiling and relaxing on her seat. She felt the heat of excitement course through her and her imagination was fast at work, picturing how she and her friend might bring a little light to the cheerless halls of Hornburg.

But then Éowyn cast one of her keen, studious looks at the younger woman.

"You care dearly for my brother, don't you?" she asked, and though her glance was discerning, her tone remained soft.

Lothíriel kept her expression as bland as she possibly could.

"He feels like family to me", she said and shrugged. In her thought, she added, _but not like a brother, and not a cousin either._

"You should tell him that, Lothíriel. You know how he mourns to have next to no living kin left", Éowyn said at length. Her bright eyes revealed nothing, not even whether she saw through her friend's words and the truth behind them.

"I wouldn't want to be impudent", Lothíriel said dismissively, blushing at last. She hoped Éowyn would take it as embarrassment.

"Believe me, you could not be that if you tried", the White Lady remarked. Then she straightened on her seat, and spoke in a brisk voice, "But come now! If we mean to make this thing happen, we'll have to get to work right away. Half the court will probably follow us, and if we mean to impose such a crowd on the Hornburg, we better bring plenty of supplies. Lady Léoma, Erkenbrand's wife, will not let us enter if she suspects we're going to eat her pantries empty."

* * *

Éowyn had been right to say that half the court was going to participate. As soon as she announced her intention of joining the King in the ancient fortress and began to prepare the journey, a great bustle stirred in Edoras. Usually, Yuletide was celebrated by the King and his nearest in the capital, but this promised an entirely new take on the age-old traditions. And many wanted to be a part of it – Déorwine among them. He happened to be in the capital when the news spread, and soon he made a quick visit at Meduseld to see Lothíriel and tell her he was going to join the company, but he would have to make a quick visit to his own seat first.

A better part of a week was taken in preparations. Éowyn had not misspoken when she had said she wasn't going to cause the Lord Erkenbrand be eaten out of house and home. Lothíriel had at first wondered if her friend's precautions were quite necessary, but seeing the amount of people that would be joining them, she decided it was only wise. To herself, she also thought if she had come up with quite a mad thing when she had suggested joining Éomer at the Hornburg, but seeing Éowyn was almost more excited than herself, she did not have heart to repent of it.

The year was drawing to its end when they finally started on their journey to the west. Wagons of supplies had already departed before them, and they would also warn Éomer of their coming. That way, Éowyn said, he could not send the goods back before it was too late.

"Isn't he going to be angry about it, though?" Lothíriel asked carefully. She imagined he would have liked to receive a rider to announce their coming.

"Maybe. But don't worry about it. As his sister, I'm allowed to make some mischief. What is he going to do, anyway? He knows this may be the last Yule we get to spend together in Rohan. In the end, all three of us will be happier for it", Éowyn said and flashed a bright smile.

There was a chill in the air as they rode out of Edoras, but sun gave some warmth as she climbed across the sky. It was good there were some clouds, too, Éowyn said; a clear sky could be beautiful in wintertime, but it usually predicted a cold night. Even then, their tents meant for camping on the way were not as warm and cosy as the comfortable rooms in Meduseld, and Éowyn had insisted lending some of her own winter clothes to Lothíriel.

"Now if you come to the Hornburg all sniffling and bleary, that will just prove my brother's point, won't it?" she said cheerfully. And so Lothíriel found herself dressed in warm woollen gown, soft and thick stockings, sturdy boots, leather gloves and a fur-lined cloak with a deep hood. She wondered out loud if it was a bit much, but her friend told her she'd be glad for this gear once night fell.

So they rode across the land of Rohan in winter, and Lothíriel was too busy marvelling at sights before her to worry about cold. There was frost on long grass, but it was slowly melting in sunlight, and their horses' breaths rose up in visible puffs of mist. Air felt crisp, but not biting.

Company from Edoras followed them, guards and nobles and their households. She knew Déorwine was there among them, but she had spotted him when they had started out of Edoras. And being Éowyn's personal friend and honoured guest, Lothíriel rode near to the front of the long line of travellers. As they ever did, they were singing many songs and laughing and jesting. It was easy to feel welcome and at home among them. Something bittersweet stirred in her chest. Life could be good here in Rohan; simpler in some ways, and yet richer in others. Rohirrim took joy in simply existing unlike her own people, perhaps because their years were briefer.

She let out a sigh. One could dream.

At night they made camp near the Road, and a veritable village rose in tents. Many stars blossomed in the sky as they sat around a camp-fire and half ate, half drank hearty, hot soup from wooden bowls, along with crusty bread. Food tasted surpassing delicious after a full day's travel. There Déorwine also found them, and sat with the two women until it was time to retire. Éowyn and Lothíriel shared lodgings, which made the younger woman feel like an excited child. She and her brothers had sometimes camped in the woods near the city when there had still been some peace in Dol Amroth and they were not needed at Father's campaigns. But Éowyn was like a sister, and there was light-hearted joy in whispered conversation as they curled up under their sleeping furs. The White Lady had been right: the night was cold indeed, but their company had not come unprepared. Warm winter clothes now proved their worth and tent-canvas was good, sturdy material. So Lothíriel was able to drift off to a dreamless sleep, calm and content in their little tent.

Such was their journey for the days that followed, until at last they began to get near to Helm's Deep. But all that morning Éowyn had been gazing up ahead and speaking with the captain of their guard in growing worry, for heavy clouds were gathering, pale grey in hue.

"It's going to snow, and the captain of our escort fears it will grow into a storm", she said to Lothíriel, "I'm not sure we can get to Hornburg before it starts."

"Should we make camp, then?" asked Lothíriel uncertainly. Not that she knew what was the best course of action when a blizzard was ahead.

"No, I wouldn't do that. It would be a dismal night and we cannot hope to find shelter, except in Hornburg. Going will be difficult tomorrow and it will be too hard on our horses. We must try to get to the Deep today, if we can", Éowyn answered seriously. Her frown deepened as she added, "It won't be pleasant, but we must push on. Do you think you can do it?"

"I will try", Lothíriel said, bracing herself mentally for the road ahead. Well, at least Hornburg was not far off now. She tried to smile bravely, "If I start to fall off the saddle, just tie me down to it and I shall manage."

"It won't come to that. You are hardier than you know", Éowyn said fiercely.

It wasn't long that snow began to fall. At first it came down gently, in big fluffy bits that stuck to her hood and the mane of her steed. But further the west they rode, the thicker it became. And the wind grew too, becoming colder and fiercer on the open land. It stung her face like a thousand needles, but she couldn't hide it lest she lost her way and was parted from the rest of the company. On the snow-covered plains, alone and without any knowledge of directions, one would soon perish. At her friend's example, Lothíriel wrapped a scarf around the lower portion of her face, which helped a little with the biting wind. She wondered how Déorwine was doing back where he and his servants travelled.

Éowyn looked to be faring better. Her grey eyes glittered behind her hood and scarf in determination, and several times she rode down the line of escort and then back again, keeping up the spirits and making sure no one was suffering too much from the cold. In quiet admiration Lothíriel watched her friend. This indeed was the measure of a queen.

Onwards they trudged, and still the weather grew worse. It did become a storm, as they had feared, and light was rapidly failing. How their herald still knew the right way, riding before them with a torch in his hand, she could only guess. Despite her heavy winter clothes, Lothíriel was starting to grow stiff and cold in her saddle. She thought maybe they would have to tie her down indeed at this rate. Her face was numb from the strain of wind, her toes felt like icicles, and she feared her hands would freeze solid around her reins. Her poor little mare did not seem to be feeling much better; this was quite a change to the comforts of royal stables of Edoras. The animal's head was hanging lower and lower as they kept going, but still the brave thing did not give up. Lothíriel began to wonder if it had been a bad idea to suggest this journey after all.

But even as she was starting to feel truly miserable, and her head became heavier and heavier to hold up, the herald cried out suddenly.

"We are almost there!" he exclaimed, even if she didn't know how he could discern this thing in the storm and dark. Lothíriel blinked her eyes, but could not yet see anything.

"It's not a long way now, Lothíriel. Can you hold on for a little bit more?" Éowyn half shouted over the wailing wind. Not trusting her voice, the younger woman just nodded. Éowyn gave a comforting pat to her arm and they pushed on for the last leg of the journey.

Soon Lothíriel too could see lights up ahead. Fires were burning above them, growing ever brighter as they advanced. At last before them rose a great causeway, though so thick was the snowfall that she couldn't see the end of it.

"Carefully now! The causeway will be slippery", Éowyn warned her. Lothíriel groaned half-audibly. Neither she or her mare could move fast enough to be considered careless.

Up they climbed and found the gates of the keep thrown open. Either their arrival had been noted, or the herald had announced them somehow. Lothíriel was too cold and weary to pay much heed to what was around them, at least until they reached the great stony courtyard. For there _he_ stood, watching their arrival with a blank expression.

Slowly the company filled the yard, and Éowyn dismounted more easily than one might expect after such hard going. Meanwhile, Lothíriel was finding herself so stiff, she wondered if she could get to the ground at all without some aid.

"There you are at last! I thought you had perished in the snow already, and I would be arranging your funeral feast instead of Yule celebrations! What madness is this? Travelling in the middle of winter in such numbers and in snowstorm, no less! Have you completely lost your mind, Éowyn?" Éomer was already scolding his sister. But though he was angry, he had not ignored Lothíriel's predicament. Even as he was speaking, he came to the side of her horse, put his hands carefully on her waist, and lifted her with no visible effort.

"Look at her! White as snow and about as cold! It's one thing for you to brave that road, but to take the lady with you?" Éomer was now growling. He wrapped his arm around her and she nearly passed out from the warmth glowing from him and the sweet sensation of being so close. Would it be very bad behaviour to push her hands into his pockets?

"Don't yell at her", Lothíriel managed at last, though her voice came out thin and croaky. "It was my idea to come here."

He fell quiet and motionless in sheer surprise. She could feel him staring down at her, but she kept her eyes veiled. But even then, she did not refuse the support of his body or the warmth of his arm draped around her shoulders. Not that she believed she could move much either way.

"Why in the name of all the Great Hunter's horses would you suggest such a thing?" Éomer asked at last, sounding as though he wasn't sure if he believed her.

"Well, it's Yuletide, and I thought you could use your sister's company", Lothíriel said softly. She didn't dare to add herself in that sentence, though she would dearly have liked it. Suddenly she felt very stupid. What if something bad had happened, and they had perished in the snow? Éomer was right to be angry. He must think her the silliest, the most unreasonable lady in all the western lands!

Again he stood silent, as though every word from her mouth astonished him more than the last. But then at last he groaned.

"Béma! What am I going to do with you?" he muttered so that probably only she could hear him. She was not left long to wonder about this statement, for he seemed to get a hold of himself. Still with his arm about her, he began to give out orders to take the horses to stables and get them warm, and to find lodgings and hot supper for all the new arrivals as soon as possible. Éowyn tried to offer her help, but Éomer was seemingly bent on targeting most of his ire at her, and instead told her to go and tend to their guest. She pursed her lips, but seeing Lothíriel really was in need, she relented for the time being.

So it was half an hour later, when at last Lothíriel felt like life and warmth had returned to all ten of her toes and fingers, and was seated by a fire in a small bedchamber with a hot drink in her hands, that Éomer reappeared. Éowyn had left her for the time being to talk with Lady Léoma, the mistress of Hornburg, but had promised to return soon. He didn't look so angry anymore, which she hoped was a good sign. Well, he could lose his temper quickly, but she had already seen that it also passed soon enough.

"Please don't be angry with Éowyn. It really was my idea to make the journey", Lothíriel said straight away, half rising from her seat. But he raised his hand, and she fell back again.

"I'm not angry anymore. And it would be a lie to say I didn't regret the prospect of spending Yule without my sister and you. The chief peril came from the storm and of course you could not foresee it", he said softly as he stepped forward. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes, I'm fine now. I believe all my toes are intact", said Lothíriel with a faint smile, and he let out a low laugh as he came to sit in the chair opposite her.

"The fortress is bursting with guests. The last it was so full was during and after the Battle of Helm's Deep. At least the occasion is happier. I suppose we'll make a proper Yule out of this yet..." he said and shook his head slightly. Perhaps he had still hard time believing this was really happening. Then he looked straight at her again, "Even if I was cranky at first, it's good to have you and Éowyn here. Otherwise, it would be a cheerless time."

She smiled and sipped her drink.

"I hoped you would come to that conclusion in the end", she said in warm tones.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Once the storm ceases, I shall take you on a tour of the fortress. Then you shall see what you traded the comforts of Meduseld for, Lothíriel", he teased her gently.

"After tonight, nothing can daunt me here. At last I shall have something to tell my brothers which is new to them. They were quite disappointed they couldn't visit the famed Hornburg while they were here in Rohan, but now when I go home, I'll be able to tell them everything", Lothíriel said.

Something strange passed across his features, dimming his grin. But he seemed to shake himself and he reached to pat her knee.

"I must make it quite the tour then, so that they'll be coming back to see the place with their own eyes. Maybe you'll return as well, if you're not done with Rohan by then", he said, and there was a note in his voice that made a shiver run down her spine. She realised his hand was still on her knee, warm and big and heavy. It would be so easy to lean into that touch...

It was then Éowyn arrived. Even after such a harrowing ride, she seemed perfectly hale and unaffected, and had not required such reviving as her feeble friend. Lothíriel felt embarrassed. She envied Éowyn's strength and resilience. If only she could be as hardy as this woman who had ridden to war as a shieldmaiden!

As soon as his sister appeared, Éomer flinched as though his hand was burned. He pulled it back speedily and rose up on his feet.

"Everything all right?" Éowyn asked.

"Yes, and our guest seems to be living indeed, even despite you dragging her through that storm", he commented grimly.

"Éomer, I told you not to grate her over it", Lothíriel raised her voice. She was surprised to hear it come out so strong when she could still feel the touch of his hand on her knee.

"Don't worry about it, Lothíriel. I believe it's a principle of my brother's to act like a moody bear for a little bit, even if he's secretly pleased", Éowyn said, indifferent to his irritable words.

He snorted out loud and nodded at Lothíriel's direction.

"Get some rest. It's late", he said curtly, bid them good night, and strode out.

"Moody bear or no, he's not wrong about one thing. You should get to bed", Éowyn said, busying herself with pulling back the covers in the bed. There were two of them in the little chamber, and they would be sharing the room, for as Éomer had said, there were quite a few guests present.

"You're sure you don't need my help with anything?" Lothíriel asked and drained the last of her drink. She got up on her feet; they felt heavy as lead. She couldn't say what she'd have been able to do for her friend, but she felt obliged to at least ask.

"No, not tonight at any rate. Lady Léoma has the situation under control, and preparations for the Yule feast won't begin until tomorrow", Éowyn replied smoothly.

Knowing she was too tired to be of any use to anyone tonight, Lothíriel decided to give in. So she changed into her soft woollen shift, newly made when weathers had started to grow colder, and crawled in the bed. Éowyn added some wood to the fire and bid her goodnight before heading out to whatever tasks she still meant to tackle tonight.

Dark and quiet fell in the room, except for the soothing crackle of fire and the occasional wail of the wind outside. And then, being alone at last, she allowed herself to think of what he had said.

Éomer had proposed the idea of her returning to Rohan. Now what in the name of Elbereth had he wanted to imply by it?

* * *

The new day rose in white brightness. The storm had ceased during the night and made way to a cloudless dawn, though it was still cold enough that last night's snowfall had not melted at all. Lothíriel had never seen so much snow in her life, and doubted she ever would again.

Once they had dressed, Éowyn lead her through the passages and into the great hall. Lothíriel could see why her friend thought this a cheerless place: it lacked all the native warmth of Eorling houses, and many corridors had little light to them. But she recognised the hand-print of the ancestors of her own people, and marvelled at the skill and cunning of the builders of old. It almost seemed like the Hornburg was carved of living stone. It was a mighty fortress indeed.

Where the walls ended, there began the work of Rohirrim. All the furniture and household objects were their making and wherever they could, they had covered stone floors with rugs and pelts. Hangings, large and colourful, brought some variance to grey walls. Some of them seemed so ancient they might be the making of first Rohirrim who had settled here. But the vast hall could not be quite redecorated, what with its high walls and pillars like trees.

They met Éomer at the other side of the hall. There was Lord Erkenbrand's table, and he had given his own seat up for the King. The Marshal himself was a bearlike man with thick flaxen hair and lined face, but Lothíriel guessed he was still a warrior no man wanted to meet in battle. As ever, Éomer got up to pull back a seat for Lothíriel. Éowyn was on his right just as back in Meduseld.

Once they were seated, he threw a glance at Lothíriel, and he spoke, "I hope last night's journey is not troubling you anymore. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I did. I am quite fine this morning, thank you", she replied and smiled.

"In that case, would you like to have a tour of the fortress after breakfast? The weather is clear and bright, and not too cold. Perhaps we could even make time for a visit to the caves", he said and in his eyes flickered almost a boyish sort of enthusiasm.

"I would like that very much", Lothíriel said warmly. An entire morning with Éomer! The idea both delighted and terrified her. Yet by now, she had grown some skill in hiding her feelings from him, and knew she could do it without revealing herself.

And so when their cups and plates were emptied, Éomer rose from his seat and offered her his arm. Éowyn was not going to join them. She knew the fortress "as well as she had mind for", and at any rate she was intending to join Lady Léoma in preparing the Hornburg for the feast. So Lothíriel took his arm and they began the grand tour of the famed fortress built by Sea-kings and inhabited by horselords.

Inside, there were no signs of the battle that so many songs spoke of, and Éomer said the invading uruk-hai had not been able to get in very deep. He spoke of the history of the fortress and told her stories of things that had happened here in the time of his people. Most often he mentioned Helm Hammerhand, and no wonder: the Deep and the fortress itself had been renamed after him. A shiver went down Lothíriel's spine as she thought again of the dreadful tale of the Long Winter. But the dark memory passed when he took her to see the kitchens; it could provide for a city of people at need, with ovens large enough to roast a boar, long tables, and an army of kettles, pots and pans. However, preparations were in full swing there and they were driven out with noise, making them both laugh. Breathless giggles escaped her mouth as they stumbled out of warm glow of kitchens, and Éomer brushed some flour dust from her cheek. Her heart skipped a beat.

It was said the Hornburg was strongest point in Rohan, and it was easy to believe when one saw the thick walls of stone, armouries and space in storages, enough to hold many month's worth of supplies. The corridors had been cunningly planned so that whoever sought to take this stronghold would have pay for every inch with blood. But such had been the skill and knowledge of Númenor at the height of its power. Éomer too noted it in grudging acknowledgement, though as a horseman he would always prefer cavalry tactics to siege war.

Eventually they came outside. As the snowstorm had passed, she could finally see the stronghold properly. Mighty indeed were the great walls of the Hornburg, and great had been the force that had broken through them. For in the wall, there was now an enormous gap. There the defences had been breached in the Battle of Helm's Deep, allowing uruk-hai enter the steps of the Hornburg for the first time in history.

But Éomer took her to walk on the rampart, and he was telling her of his talks with Gimli. Rohirrim had no such skill as to mend the broken wall, but Gimli had spoken of bringing a host of Dwarves to the Deep and help rebuilding this place, perhaps even stronger than it had previously been. The view from the rampart was more or less chilling: two great mounds there were, and she knew there lay those fallen in the battle. But the other hill had a sinister feel about it, and she quickly looked back at the man walking by her side.

He then took her down to the ground-level to get a closer look at the place where Isengard's armies had broken through the wall. Once again she wondered at the sight. It was hard to imagine what power could break stone so strong, even if she had heard tales of the Enemy's many war-machines. Lothíriel turned to ask Éomer more about it, but then she saw him standing one foot perched on a loose piece of stone, and staring outside with a dark expression on his features.

"It's hard to believe it's been less than a year since we fought here. Especially here, it feels like yesterday", he said in low tones as she came to stand next to him. He let out a sigh, "Uncle was still alive."

Lothíriel put her hand on his forearm, not knowing what to say. But Éomer continued to speak.

"So many died here. I can see their faces when I close my eyes, as if they had just fallen. This field has drunk so much blood, it seems strange anything could grow here ever again", he went on, and something tormented grew on his features.

Her heart ached to see his pain so clearly. And so, doing the only thing she could, Lothíriel wrapped her arms around him.

"I sometimes forget you have seen so much death, and I so little. I can't say if I rightly understand how brave you are – you and Éowyn. And I don't know if it's any consolation, maybe it's just empty words, but thanks to you so many people never knew evil. Dol Amroth still stands, and Rohan stands, and we are alive to see a new day come. Even now children are born who shall never know the Dark Lord as anything more than a scary story. Earth was made to endure and it will forget the blood that was spilled. Flowers will come again in spring and grass will grow here as green as it ever was. And that is a wondrous thing indeed", she said quietly, holding him tight. Slowly, slowly she felt the tension leave him, and a gentle hand brushed the back of her head.

"You are right, of course. I suppose I tend to focus more on the bad than on the good. But so has life been for me. Théodred and I were always preparing for the worst, and it's a hard habit to break", he said at length. Then Éomer let out a sigh and she thought he was standing a bit straighter. And his voice was not so grim when he continued, "I think I will always remember the War of the Ring. It is not a good memory. Yet, perhaps... it's more manageable than I first thought."

She pulled back so that she could get a glimpse of his face. And it did seem like his melancholy had passed. His eyes had lost their earlier hard glint, the lines of grief had softened, and the beginning of a smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth. Lothíriel withdrew her arms and stepped away. Touching him was perilous and she should be more careful.

But even so, she smiled at him.

"Shall we continue, then?"

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here is a new chapter! I hope you liked it. :)

I had some trouble with the first part of this story, but the latter basically wrote itself - so effortlessly in fact that eventually I had to cut off the rest of it. That will be included in the next chapter. I think it should be pretty heavy as far as Éomer-centered content goes! :) I also imagine the side story will be delightful to write, once we get there. But giving this tour to Lothíriel, and seeing these spots again that he has been avoiding as much as he can, he may be arriving at a significant realisation.

Originally I hoped to be able to get to this part around the real world's Christmas season, but there was not enough time. It feels a bit weird to be writing Yule-themed stuff in the middle of February, but here we are!

Thank you for reading and reviewing! As always, your comments are more than welcome!

* * *

 **Wtiger5 -** I think he would pushing himself pretty bad. I see him as this dutiful man who takes his responsibility seriously, no matter the personal cost.

I'm glad you liked the bit with _mearas!_ :)

 **EStrunk -** That contrast is what I'm going for, more or less. It's interesting to write a bit different Rohirric character, who doesn't feel a connection with his birth land and rather wishes for a different kind of life away from Rohan.

Anyway, I'm glad you liked their talk! :)

 **Clodagh -** Thank you!

 **Anon -** I don't think he ever would half ass an apology, if he truly felt that he was in the wrong.

 **sai19 -** Yes, sometimes the muse just is hyperactive, as he seems to be this year!

It was important indeed to strengthen their relationship through that conflict - and to show it already was strong enough to survive it. But yes, Éowyn is not as oblivious as Lothíriel may believe!

That's what makes Déorwine interesting for me as well. Being this out of place, out of time kind of character, he's fairly unusual when you look at stories about Rohirrim.

 **elanorlavender -** Thank you very much! I am very happy to hear you think so highly of this story. :) But you are correct, those are often the issues with romance stories. Great to hear this one manages to be convincing in that regard!

 **Menelwen -** Yes, she is really so oblivious to what is right before her eyes! But he's not helping as much as he could - as of yet at least, we'll see what happens at Yule feast!

 **blasttyrant -** Thank you! :D Éomer is being quite transparent, isn't he?

 **Jo -** Thanks! :)

 **Cricklewood16 -** Things are progressing, indeed! But where they will go from here, and whether Déorwine has some dark secret still, will remain to be seen!

 **Doranwen -** Yes, they both erred in their judgement, and it was important for them to both realise that. I'm glad you liked the bit with _mearas!_

Also thanks for pointing out the mistakes! I'll try to fix them asap.

 **Wondereye -** I imagine he only needs to say the word and she'd be his, indeed!

 **sploosh93 -** Thank you!

 **Guest -** I very much intend to, so no worries! :)

 **meldisil -** Thank you! I'm glad you like the story. I think Éomer may be closer to his own realisations than one might think, but we'll get to that!


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

After a couple of busy days, Yule came at last. The Hornburg had become surprisingly cosy and festive under Éowyn and Lady Léoma's guidance. Here and there evergreen garlands were hanging, or wrapped around pillars as in the great hall, and their fresh forest smell was only overpowered by the enticing fragrances of spices and baking that spread from the kitchens. When the sunset came, a thousand candles and torches would be lit in the fortress and the feast would begin. But before that, there was an entire day of merrymaking ahead.

Éowyn would have headed straight to breakfast when they had dressed, but Lothíriel held her fiend back, and produced at last the bridal shift which had been long in making. Timidly she presented it to the White Lady and explained its meaning. Éowyn's eyes grew wide as saucers as she unfolded the garment and traced the delicate embroidery around the neckline.

"It is beautiful! I never guessed you had such skill in needlework. Look at those stitches!" Éowyn marvelled and lifted the fabric up so that she could examine it closer.

"Well, I admit I normally don't have the patience to pay such heed to smaller details. But this was a gift to a dearest of friends, and so I made every effort possible", said Lothíriel, blushing at the praise. But she was glad, too. The shift was perhaps her finest work and she had very much hoped Éowyn would like it.

Éowyn's eyes seemed unusually damp.

"Thank you so much. It is a wonderful thing and I'll be honoured to wear it on my wedding day", she said emphatically. Then she put the garment aside and pulled Lothíriel into a tight hug.

When Éowyn had her emotions under control, she turned to her saddlebags, and dug out a small bundle of green cloth.

"This does not seem as heartfelt as your gift, for I can't boast such skill as you have with the needle. Even so, my brother and I hope that these will remind you of your time in Rohan", she said and offered the bundle to Lothíriel. With shaky fingers she opened it and found inside a pair of golden earrings and a necklace to match. Earrings were shaped like flowers with white blooms hanging, but the necklace seemed to curl up into an elaborate bundle. Bright jewels nestled in gold like blossoms that would never fade.

"These belonged to our mother", Éowyn said as she helped Lothíriel to fasten the necklace. "Her mother Morwen Steelsheen gave them to her on her wedding day, which she had once received from Thengel King, our grandfather."

The younger woman would have jumped around if her friend had not been busy fastening the precious thing.

"And you say it's not heartfelt! I'm not sure I have earned a gift such as this. They should be yours to keep", she said in earnest, remembering their talk about the Princess Théodwyn many months ago now.

"Don't worry about it. Both Éomer and I have keepsakes from our parents. And I should think my mother would also like you to have these. You have been such a good friend to me and my brother", Éowyn insisted.

"Thank you. I shall treasure them always", Lothíriel vowed. Now it was her turn to hug her friend, and both of them were still a little teary-eyed when they finally left the small chamber for breakfast.

* * *

The atmosphere at the day's first meal was already quite festive, and with all the guests present, it was rather crowded as well – something to see, as the great hall was by no means the smallest one would find in Rohan. Lothíriel was not accustomed to start her day with anything stronger than tea, but it was a tradition that the first drink of Yule should be special mead, and so she toasted a cup of it with Éomer and Éowyn. He seemed to be in a light mood, greeting the two women with unusual cheer as they arrived. Then he saw the necklace on her breast and the earrings, and he smiled, telling her they suited her very finely. Lothíriel blushed deeply and fixed her eyes in her mead, golden and fragrant. When she was sure her voice wouldn't falter, she thanked him and apologised for not getting him anything. But Éomer made a dismissive gesture with his hand and told her not to worry about it.

The happy mood seemed to be a decoration of its own in the corridors and even in the open air. All about, one could see fair-haired Rohirrim laughing and speaking loudly, and some were already sneaking mouthfuls of mead and ale from their flagons when they thought no one was looking. Many games would be played outside, though the merrymaking was kept strictly inside the Deep. The great mounds beyond the walls were too fresh still.

Éowyn and Éomer both came to join her as they went to watch the events under the bright sky. There were games of speed and strength and skill, both for groups and single competitors. Some participants acted like very large children, so boundless was their mirth in simple sports. She saw lords and commoners alike, wrestling and running side by side and working as teams. Meanwhile, their supporters shouted encouragement – even some rather brazen things that made her ears burn.

But as the morning progressed, more and more people came out to watch the games, and it was a thick crowd in the Deep. Lothíriel found herself pressed closer and closer to her friends; Rohirrim did not seem to be of the mind of giving their king and the White Lady any more space than they gave themselves. Then abrupt push came with the moving crowd and she nearly lost her footing on snow-covered ground. But a pair of hands were quick to catch her by her elbows, holding her steady, and she felt a strong chest against her back. Even without looking she knew who it was.

"T-thank you", she stammered, trying to regain her footing. The difficulty in that particular attempt was no longer because of sudden pressure of bodies around them. But he remained dangerously close still.

"You're welcome", Éomer's voice whispered somewhere above and behind her. The ghost of his touch lingered, but she was now quite used to the sensation.

It wasn't long before Éowyn decided their guest had had enough of overbearing crowds, and suggested they take a walk on the rampart. Lothíriel agreed, knowing it was probably a good idea to get away from him for a little bit. Even in the mass of people Éowyn had no difficulty in making a path for them, and at last they got some fresher air. Even in cool weather, such multitude of onlookers had made her feel hot and less than comfortable – though, of course, it could be just because of _him_.

It turned out others had also decided to take a stroll on the rampart, or just get a better view of the games below. So their walk was rather short, and in any event, Éowyn soon needed to go and make sure that preparations for the feast were going well. But before she took her leave, she introduced Lothíriel to a group of ladies of West-Mark, and they were quick to take the Gondorian guest under their wing.

Afternoon passed pleasantly with the company of ladies. They had many questions about Gondor and the everyday life there. Some of their questions were quite direct and earthy, especially when asking about southern men, and it took her aback more or less even if she had grown to expect such bold approach.

She was relieved when they gathered in one guest room, and then began their own part of the Yule celebrations. It turned out this ending of the old year was believed to be an especially good time to divine what the new one had in store. Signs were read in various ways: trying to interpret shadows thrown on the walls, examining foam in one's cup of ale, and preparing little magic tokens to keep to one's bed for the following night. Supposedly, this would bring visions in dreams. Some of the younger maidens were curious about their future spouses, one mother of two wondered about the fortunes of her children, and an older lady was hoping to get some sign whether the business she ran with her husband would be prosperous. Whether there was any real magic involved in these actions, Lothíriel didn't know. But she guessed what mattered was this sense of sisterhood that was about them as they spoke of their hopes and dreams.

In the cheerful talks laughter rose and fell, and before she knew it, the sunset began to draw closer. So the company dispersed to get ready for the feast, and Lothíriel went to change into her new formal winter gown. It was wool of course, and its red was almost as dark as wine. The golden earrings and necklace matched the dress better than she had imagined.

Normally, she would wear her hair in whatever braid arrangement Hild came up with, but tonight it seemed right to leave it open, even if it seemed like a bold thing to do. She shivered in strange, heady excitement. It was not unusual for the women of the Mark, noble or common, to let down their hair in public. Maybe she had now stayed long enough in Rohan she could do so, too.

Éowyn swept in like a small tempest. She had been quite busy, but she didn't seem weary: her speed did not falter as she washed quickly and pulled on a fresh shift. As she prepared, Éowyn threw a keen look at her friend.

"You look very lovely, Lothíriel. Don't be surprised if line of desperate males appear as soon you enter the hall, asking to dance with you tonight", she noted, half serious and half humorous.

"Thank you, Éowyn. Do you think the hair is bit too much?" Lothíriel asked worriedly. Wearing it open like this, and meaning to allow everyone see, made her feel exposed.

"Well, if you think having half the young men present tonight fall in love with you is too much, then yes", said her friend lightly. It was clear Éowyn couldn't see why it would be a problem. She pulled on a new gown and went on, "Any other lady of the south would gladly take full advantage of such hair as yours this evening, but here you are worrying if it will offend someone! Don't be so timid, my friend. You are young and very pretty, and its Yule! Can you lace me up?"

Lothíriel felt sheepish and said no more, but instead focused on the fastenings of Éowyn's dress, white and golden as was her custom.

Yes, it was Yule. And maybe tonight, it was silly to worry about things, about future, and about how it would feel when spring came and she would have to leave this strange, wonderful land.

* * *

Lothíriel accompanied Éowyn to the great hall of the Hornburg. Somehow, the people of the fortress had produced garlands to twine around the great pillars as though vine creeping up a tree. Long tables were laden with cups and plates, and here and there small groups were already gathered, talking excitedly. But Lothíriel spotted Éomer as soon as they entered. He had polished up a bit as well, wearing a fine green tunic she hadn't seen before, and there were braids in his golden hair. Tall he stood, his shoulders back, and claiming the space around him as proudly as any warrior king would. How bright he looked then, like a breath of summer in the depth of winter! Even in this crowd of tall, fair-haired folk, he was the source where all others drew their glory.

She and Éowyn approached, and then his eyes found them. Éomer spoke no word, but his eyes were wide and he did not blink. It was not the first time she desperately wished she could read his mind. What did it mean that he was looking so long at her? Did he think she looked pretty? If only she were brave enough to ask!

As they came near, she became aware of her hair spread open, and she felt exposed once more. In Gondor, a lady would only let down her hair for her husband to see. There was something brazen about letting everyone see her like this. But she met his eyes, and though she did not completely understand what she saw in them, by some instinct she felt pleased. This time, it was not just her cheeks that grew uncommonly warm.

"Are we ready?" Éowyn asked mildly. Either she was oblivious to anything unusual in the air, or she was deliberately ignoring it.

He seemed like a man startled from a waking dream. Éomer blinked and cleared his throat, and then answered in an rough voice, "I believe we are."

There was bit of a commotion as those who had seat in the King's table sought for their spots. Lothíriel meant to ask Éowyn if she was staying with them of if she should seek a seat somewhere else, but then she saw Éomer pulling her customary chair for her. Smiling she took it, but when she had arranged her skirts around her feet and was seated, she felt his hand on her shoulder.

"I must ask before anyone else has the chance", he spoke in a low voice, "May I have your first dance tonight?"

"Of course", Lothíriel blurted out in breathless wonder. Her blush grew deeper when she added without thinking, "But do you think that's enough?"

His eyes pored into hers like burning coals.

"No, it's not. Let's make it three dances, then", he stated, and before she could react, or think of what had just passed, he was already going to take his own seat.

Lothíriel was still trying to process this event, and what it meant for her, when Éomer gave his signal and the great doors of the hall were opened. Guests began to pour inside, and in pairs or small groups they came to greet the King and bid him and hi sister a prosperous new year. Fortunately, she did not have to anything more than smile and nod occasionally when she recognised the person now standing before the Lord of the Mark.

Eventually Déorwine appeared, too. She had only met him a couple of times since their arrival at the Hornburg, and even then it had been briefly. Turned out Marshal Erkenbrand was keeping him busy.

"He knows I'm not the leader Dúnhere was", Déorwine had said when they had bumped to each other in one corridor, "and he wants to instruct me in many matters of lordship. He's even insisting on sparring every morning, though we both know I'm not likely to get any better. My uncle insists I stay close to him while I'm here, which leaves me little free time. But hopefully he will relax for the feast, and we shall talk more then, my lady."

Now Déorwine only had time to smile and wink at her before he went off to find his own seat with Erkenbrand. He would probably come find her once the tables were cleared away.

It was a pleasant evening. Seated between Éowyn and Lady Léoma, Lothíriel enjoyed herself very well, and animated conversation rose and fell between the three of them. Even then, she remained keenly aware that between her and Éomer sat only his sister, though she tried to keep from looking at his way. He was dangerously handsome tonight and she was starting to feel like she had been foolish to suggest more than just one dance. After tonight, she expected to be more in love than ever.

It appeared Léoma knew just what was in her mind, although they had not met before Lothíriel and Éowyn had travelled to the Hornburg. For when the White Lady was leaning to the direction of her brother to tell him something, Erkenbrand's wife took the opportunity.

"The King looks very well tonight", she whispered to Lothíriel and smiled like she had known what the younger woman was thinking the moment she had laid eyes on him in the hall.

"I suppose", said Lothíriel and feigned major interest in her cup of mead.

"You suppose? Is that why you are trying to make it appear as though you are not looking at him at all?" Lady Léoma asked, all too shrewd to Lothíriel's liking. She said nothing, which turned out to be the worse option, for the woman continued to speak, "I had wondered why there is no news of him looking for a bride. Erkenbrand said it's because the King is too busy to be courting a lady. But I see now the reason sits so close that maybe even he has not realised it yet. Men often need a little bit of help in that regard, you see – especially when their heads and hearts have long been full of nothing but war and woe. I should know. It took Erkenbrand three years to propose to me."

Lothíriel took a large gulp of mead. She felt mortified that Léoma had seen through her just like that. But what could she say? Admit the truth or deny it? She didn't think she could fool the woman, if she already saw this much.

"Your husband is right. The King is busy indeed, and it is not my place to assume anything else", she said at length, not meeting Léoma's eyes. This was a sensible way to respond, at least. It could even be that Lady Léoma was merely testing her character, and if she would rise to the bait easily. Lothíriel was not keen to flatter herself by imagining that she had his fancy when he had not said such thing to her, but neither did she wish to seem frivolous to a lady of Léoma's standing.

It was then Éowyn turned back again and the topic was dropped. It was now time for the dessert: apple tarts with spices and cream, roasted and honeyed nuts, and juicy blackcurrant cakes. Even if it was a thin year, tonight no one knew hunger.

But as the last crumbs were enjoyed and cups drained, Lothíriel realised the moment she had both anticipated and dreaded was now nearing. Once the tables were cleared and the musicians felt like the food was settled in their stomachs, then the dancing would begin. And there were no less than three dances with Éomer waiting for her!

Voices grew and filled the hall, wood scraping across stone as benches and chairs were moved, and clang of dishes as servants began to pick up plates and bowls. Lothíriel got up on her feet and felt lost in the crowd around her. Somehow, Déorwine elbowed his way through it.

"There you are, my lady! Quite a feast, wasn't it?" he asked pleasantly and offered a bow to her.

"Yes, it was very delicious", she replied with a strained smile. She was too anxious to be able to summon her sweeter manners.

"My lady, I was hoping we might dance again together", he said, earnest and bright-eyed. She wondered what he was expecting. By now, the poor young lord ought to know she was not worth the effort. Maybe he was determined to keep on trying until spring.

"I'm sorry, but my first three dances are already spoken for, my lord. Perhaps after then?" she said carefully. She didn't mean to glance at where she expected Éomer to be, but her eyes were drawn that way before she knew what she was doing.

Lord Déorwine saw that glance and followed it. It was hard to miss Éomer, who stood as if in spotlight, towering over the crowd around him.

"Ah, I see. Well, the fourth dance it is, then", said the Lord of Harrowdale, refusing to give in yet.

"Very well, my lord", she said, reaching for her mead cup and draining its remaining contents. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

When Déorwine had taken his leave, Éowyn linked her arm with Lothíriel and took her to meet a few local folk, lords and commoners of the Westfold alike. Some of their wives and sisters she had already met earlier the same day, and was now reintroduced to them. She was surprised to see some of their looks. A few young ladies gazed at her in unveiled envy, and one man whose lordship apparently included two entire villages stared at her in a way that left nothing to imagination. He only spoke at Éowyn's prompting. But the White Lady was wise enough to steer her friend away very quickly. Either way, she received two more invitations to dance, much to the peril of her poor feet.

"Why do they look at me like that?" Lothíriel asked her friend in whispers as they moved through crowd.

"If you didn't want attention, you shouldn't have let down your hair! Few of these people have ever seen a lady of Gondor, and even less have they imagined one that keeps her hair like one of Rohan's own maidens", Éowyn answered. She was smiling like this all was very amusing to her.

"You should have stopped me!" said the younger of the two in growing dismay. She couldn't remember now why had she thought this was a good idea.

"Well, I did try to tell you. But don't worry about it. Once you've danced with my brother, people will leave you alone", Éowyn stated brightly, and Lothíriel thought to comment what an absurd idea that was, but she decided to say nothing.

"Ah, here he is. Are you feeling springy, brother?" Éowyn asked sweetly as they came upon Éomer in the crowd. Her question almost made Lothíriel choke on her spit. Maybe Éowyn had been to her cups tonight, too.

"Like you wouldn't believe", said Éomer wryly. One corner of his mouth was lifted in a half-smile.

"Excellent. I believe you two had an agreement for when the dancing started? In that case, allow me to take my leave", Éowyn said, light as ever, and without a further comment she left Lothíriel by his side.

There was an awkward moment as they both stood silent. Somewhere close, Lothíriel could hear one of the musicians trying out a few tunes with his pipe. But the crowd around them was still talking excitedly, and it would be some minutes before the dancing actually started.

And after that excruciating moment, they both spoke at the same time.

Lothíriel went, "It's quite a crowd."

And Éomer said, "You look beautiful."

She was immediately taken aback. Lowering her eyes, she tried to think what to say. So he did think her pretty! And not just pretty, but beautiful! Oh, Béma!

"Thank you", she uttered at last. Abruptly she felt very young and timid.

"Join me? The dancing will start soon", he said, offering his hand. And she took it, placing her hand on his forearm. The fabric of his tunic was soft and warm, and his arm solid and strong.

He began to move and she took his lead. And it was strange, the way it seemed that the crowd just parted for him as though everyone knew at all times when to make way for him. But Lothíriel saw people in the hall were not just looking at him: some of their eyes were also on her. Breathless, she wondered what they thought. Would they be asking each other after this if he was courting her?

Not that this was the same thing, but she had an inkling now what it would be like to walk beside him as his queen.

They halted at the centre of the hall. More couples began to gather, and quickly he explained the first dance to her. It sounded simple enough. Two lines were formed, and then, as the music began, so did the dance. Taking clues from him and the dancers on her sides, Lothíriel got a hang of what to do and when to move, when to go forward and circle around Éomer who had come to meet her. And she knew when to clap her hands and when to link her arm with the red-haired fellow to his left.

The first dance was not a difficult one to bear and the second one she knew from the Harvest Feast. There, all dancers would divide into groups of three couples, who would then move in time with the dance and the music. It was an endless cycle where they switched partners inside that group of three pairs, and somehow the tune reflected it as well. Lothíriel grew relieved. She had been worried about dancing with him, but so far, there was nothing too serious happening. She could well endure the third dance, too.

Music halted. Couples did not go seeking new groups or forming lines. Instead, they stayed near to their pairs. Voices spoke sonorously about them, low but still excited.

And before her Éomer stood. He lifted his hands like he meant to touch her, but he halted before coming in contact with her.

"May I?" he asked quietly, hands mid-air. Lothíriel could only nod.

In his right hand he picked her left one. The other he carefully placed on her waist, pressing cautiously against the fabric of her dress.

"You'll find the dance easier if you take support of my shoulder", he offered in soft tones, and she did do so, though her heart was beating fast. His shoulder felt like solid rock under her hand, strong and steadfast. She took a deep breath and did not dare to raise her eyes, for he was standing so close to her now, and she feared what enchantment might be put to her if she did dare to take a look at his face.

But then the music started and he gently pulled at her to move with him. And she did, not even trying to be graceful or dance properly, but just let him lead the way in whatever way he wished. It was a faster dance than the two last ones, and soon enough she felt herself pressed against him, holding on to him so that she wouldn't lose her balance. He lead the way easily and surely.

Lothíriel looked up, knowing only the music and the heat that she felt, and he was looking at her instead of where he was leading her. And yet he did not seem to falter at all, or lose his footing, or bump into other dancers. Somehow it made sense. She held tight to his hand and shoulder.

The song ended. Relieved she was that the music had stopped, and yet she was disappointed at the same time. She could go on dancing like this until the night ended and stars fell.

The song had ended but Éomer did not move. His hands were still on hers and against her waist, pressing her gently to him. And he was looking down at her like all the world around them was lost to him. Had she ever seen such warmth and softness about his eyes? For the first time, a thought occurred to her: what if Lady Léoma was on to something?

Her heart ached. How cruel it was to be in this moment that was like so many of her dreams! But she was more sensible than to expect anything. For mead and ale could make a man think and feel many things that would be gone as soon as he slept them off, and in the middle of a heated dance passions would easily rise that would quickly fade. She lowered her eyes because no matter what she wanted, she knew she did not deserve this man.

Lothíriel would have made to move away, but he spoke before she could collect herself.

"Is everything all right?" Éomer asked her. Still his hand remained where they were, so warm and reassuring.

"I'm just feeling a little too warm", she replied. And that wasn't even a lie.

"Why don't we take a walk on the rampart and get some fresh air?" he asked helpfully. How could she refuse it, even if her reason told her she should get away from him right now?

"Very well", Lothíriel merely said. At last he withdrew his hands. She wanted to wrap her arms around herself, but even her fingertips felt like glowing with warmth. She didn't want their burning heat close to rest of her body.

Cloaks were produced, and blindly, too weak to listen to her own reason, Lothíriel took his arm again and followed him out. In that moment, she did not even recall that she was supposed to dance with someone else tonight.

The sun had long since set and the moon was in the sky. It was a beautiful night. Hardly a cloud was seen covering the stars of Elbereth. The moon, nearly full now, shined bright silver. Almost the torches and braziers outside were not necessary.

Éomer lead the way to the rampart where one could see the vale. Lothíriel sucked in breath: the night of silver moonlight and dark blue of the mountains and white snow on the ground was so beautiful.

"It's wonderful, indeed", Éomer agreed quietly. "I did not think this night would be so lovely."

"It's Yule", she said and was glad she had come out with him. "But there are no Yules like this back in Dol Amroth."

"How do you like Rohan now that you have been here for a few months?" he asked her as they walked slowly on the rampart.

"It's... I don't know what to say. It's so much, you see. Some things I expected are true indeed, but there is so much more than I ever imagined", Lothíriel replied, smiling slightly. She dared to relax a little bit. It felt like things were back to normal, and fresh air had cleared both their heads from whatever heady things had tried to possess them while they had danced together.

"I'm glad that you came. My sister loves you dearly. I don't think she ever had a friend like you before", Éomer commented, gazing ahead.

"And she is very dear to me, too", Lothíriel said fondly. "Truth is I haven't had a friend like her, either. I never expected us to become so close... but I'm glad that I came, too. Life was much smaller before Rohan."

"Indeed?" Éomer asked, sounding surprised.

"Yes. I didn't have a sense of purpose before, you see. But I feel it here, if that makes any sense", she said slowly. She glanced up at him, now more at ease than before. It was easier to think when he was not looking at her in such a way as he had when they had been dancing and he was so close to her.

"You know, I used to be scared of you. Back in Minas Tirith after the war, I was positively terrified!" she confessed and let out a small laugh. But Éomer did not laugh.

"I'm sorry to hear that. It was not my intention to scare you off, even if I rather sensed your unease. But it was never because of you. I was just... I had not come to terms with losing my uncle. And I was so sick of everything, even though I knew I should be happy and relieved. I probably acted like a proper troll at the time", he said, sounding like he was quite disgusted with himself.

"It's all right. I understand", Lothíriel said softly and she pressed his arm gently. "We both know better now. I should be very disappointed in myself if I had not won your friendship by the wedding."

"Either you underestimate yourself grossly", he noted wryly, "or you have quite the hideous impression of me. But I think the wedding and what comes after shall now be much easier for Éowyn, thanks to you. How go your lessons, by the way?"

"Well enough. We still have some court etiquette we need to discuss, and her Sindarin could use some practise", Lothíriel replied. She wasn't certain how much time they would have fore lessons after Yuletide. Soon Éowyn would have her hands full in preparing the wedding feast and making ready for her imminent departure. But she knew her friend was ready enough.

"It will be pure madness, having the preparations in our hands while foaling season is at near. But we'll manage somehow. It's Éowyn's wedding, after all, and I will not have anyone say that I didn't observe my sister's union with the Steward of Gondor with all due glory", Éomer said solemnly.

"Between the two of you, I have no doubt you will handle it. Though I admit I didn't expect the wedding to be in Edoras", she admitted, glancing up at his face in case the topic saddened him. But his expression did not reveal any regret.

"Éowyn would not have it any other way. I suppose it's partly so that she may remain with me as long as possible. But it's also to bring some happy tidings to Edoras. It's been so long since we had a reason to celebrate", he said and was silent for a moment. No doubt he remembered his uncle. Then he glanced at her with a lopsided smile, "It's strange to think that the last couple to wed in Meduseld were my mother and my father."

"Really? They did not marry in Aldburg?" Lothíriel wondered out loud.

"No. She was a Princess of the Mark, and my uncle demanded it. They were always close, although he was much older than her. Perhaps that was why he was determined to raise my sister and I. Some of my father's kin still lived in Aldburg at the time, and they would have taken us, but Uncle wouldn't have any of it. He always told me not to think of myself as anything else than his own", he told her, soft and slow. He cast down his eyes and shadow fell on him, like she had feared. Somehow in his life, even happy memories often reminded him of something that grieved him. How she wished to make it otherwise!

Éomer moved from her side and came to stand by the stone railing. With a sigh he leant his elbows against it and he gazed over the Deep. The light of moon was so bright, she saw how grave his expression had become.

"What is it?" she asked softly as she moved to stand next to him.

He did not say anything at first and when he did, his voice was quiet and sad.

"It's Yuletide now, and spring will come soon. The idea has never been loathsome to me, but it is now. Because you and Éowyn will be gone, and I'll be more alone than ever before. The nights we've spent together... it has felt like a family. It's hard to let go, though I know you and my sister must be free to live your own lives. How do I make do with the silence that comes after you?" he spoke slowly, and his eyes were still fixed in the vale below.

"You're not losing us. Éowyn will always be your sister, and I your friend. We'll write to one another, and come visit, and meet in Minas Tirith as often as you like", she said in earnest, but the sadness on his features did not subside. She bit her lip and added, "It's still months before spring, Éomer."

"I know. But every day it grows nearer, and instead of taking joy in time that is left, I can't help but count the hours and wish that I might stop them... last Yule, I still had Uncle and cousin, and I never thought Éowyn would go anywhere. But this year, it's been nothing but losing and sacrifice. I should be happy now that there is peace. It's twisted that I felt more respite during the war than I do now. When does it stop? How long do I have to keep spending all that I have to give? I'm so weary, Lothíriel", he spoke, frenetic in helpless anger and something that bordered on desperation. It broke her heart, and yet she wished to offer her hands, as if this burden was something physical for him to bear, and she strong enough to share in carrying it.

"Of those who have much to give, much is asked. I wish I knew what to tell you, but I'm just a simple girl from seaside. But I see how you toil and push yourself and for what's it worth, I am in awe of your strength and resilience. I have faith it will be rewarded in due time", she said slowly, Gently she placed her hand on his forearm and went on, "I hope you don't really think nothing has been given to you this past year. For my part, I know that I have made two dear friends, and I would do anything to help them, if they ever needed me. I only wish I knew how to comfort you better."

"You do comfort me, Lothíriel, just as you have many times before. Do you not see it? Since you came to this land... you are there whenever I need you", he said quietly and the earlier vehemence was utterly gone. He was staring at her again and the slow flames of his eyes caught her, too.

The moment was charged. Beyond it no other world or time existed. They stood there, leaning down against the stone railing of the rampart, their arms touching. If there was chill in the air, Lothíriel did not feel it. Only thing she knew, only thing she wanted, was the man beside her.

His dark eyes searched her face for a moment. What did he see then? She could only guess. For to her, all that was visible was his spirit, his way of admitting to vulnerability even when he was one of the strongest men she had ever met.

Éomer was leaning closer. Her heart began to race ever faster when she felt his hot breath against the surface of her lips. She closed her eyes, not knowing how else she might endure this moment. She had dreamt of this, she yearned for this, and she did not know what would happen if he did let it pass. _It's the mead,_ she told herself. _It's the mead and the dancing like the lunatic you are, and all this will be gone when morning comes._

A hand pressed against the side of her face and then, _and then,_ as she almost felt the whisper of his lips against her own, there was a sudden clamour somewhere behind them. Involuntarily she startled, moving away from him.

His hand moved so quickly it was hard to believe a Man could manage it. He was using his arm to shield her body as he too started to focus, seeking the source of disturbance.

It was quite anticlimactic. There below the rampart they saw a company of young Riders, and one of them had accidentally knocked down the brazier. They were now shouting and kicking out the still burning coals, while a pair of guards on duty were scolding them in earnest.

Éomer relaxed and withdrew the arm he had held against her. But his expression was now tight and closed again. The precious moment had passed.

Hopefully, those morons down below would have a hangover of the century tomorrow.

"Let's get back inside", he muttered as he straightened himself once more. "We don't want to get cold."

Without a word, she followed him back inside the fortress.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Are we all frustrated now? I believe I could name one Amrothian lady who is very much so! :D And doubtlessly Éomer is not too glad, either... but more on that in the side story!

I really loved writing this chapter. It was effortless, too; I just love it when that happens with a story. Either way, I think some headway has been made by our pair of oblivious fools! ;)

Thank you for reading and reviewing! Your comments are always most welcome.

* * *

 **frank . kilgenschmidt -** Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. :)

 **Guest -** What can I say? It's one of the joys of being a writer! :D

 **Doranwen -** Happy to hear you liked it! I hope the dance and the almost kiss are satisfactory as well. :)

 **Galenrandir -** Thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy this story!

 **EStrunk -** It was entertaining to write, too. I'm rather happy that I chose the Hornburg as setting for Yule.

I think he may have made some fairly obvious implications now! We'll see how that turns out.

 **marttapuustinen -** Thank you! :)

 **blasttyrant -** She certainly has some suspicions now, although she is still uncertain!

 **elaineli -** Glad to hear I made such an impression! I am happy you are enjoying the story so well! :)

 **Jo** \- I'm afraid they can't! :D

 **Cricklewood16 -** Thank you! I rather like the Hornburg as a setting, too!

 **Menelwen -** Thanks! Yes, riding through Rohan in the middle of winter is surely something she had not imagined before. But like you say, it shows her something new about this country.

You were guessing at the right direction, although I'm afraid this foolish love-sick pair are taking their time with the first kiss! :D

 **Wondereye -** Thank you!

 **Nibel Verius Yggdrasil -** Thank you for your comment! I'm glad you took time to review, even if writing English is difficult for you. Don't worry about making mistakes! I'm not a native speaker either, so I know it can be hard to express your thoughts properly. I guess it's also why my writing is generally easier for other non-native speakers, because my language is probably simpler - though I hope my stories and characters are not!

I think they both are now on the verge of realising things about themselves and each other. Éowyn surely is showing signs that she knows everything! But we'll see how that goes now!


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Once inside, Éomer touched her shoulder and said he was going to get her something to drink before he vanished in the crowd. If there had been anything hopeful in her heart during their walk outside, it now vanished swiftly. She knew he had meant to kiss her, but had changed his mind and pulled away the moment he remembered there was a real world around them.

Perhaps it was for the better. To kiss him in the middle of a silly mead-induced stupor would be the worst thing indeed. He had probably realised that, too. She couldn't see him anywhere in the fair-haired company; he would probably be tackled by guests before he could ever get back to her.

And yet, seeing the hall before her, she recalled at once how they had danced there. Why had she insisted on more than just one dance? Why must she be so foolish? Now it would live in her mind, ruining all other dances because who in this world could compare to King Éomer of Rohan?

Deciding her night was now done, Lothíriel went on to seek for Éowyn. The crowd had not grown any less dense, though, and it was difficult trying to find her friend when it seemed like everyone was tall and blond. Her head began to throb and the noise only made it worse. More than ever, she yearned for the cool quiet of their bedchamber.

"Have you seen the Lady Éowyn?" she tried, grasping at this or that Rohir's forearm. But they just looked at her as though she had said something odd, and so she went on trying to find her friend.

Suddenly, a familiar voice came from her left.

"Lothíriel! Béma, you look like you're going to throw up!" Éowyn exclaimed, running to her side and instantly wrapping an arm about her. "What has happened? Are you sick? Did my idiot brother abandon you while you got ill?"

"No, no. He didn't do anything wrong. He went to get drinks. I only just began to feel poorly", Lothíriel replied. She hadn't guessed her disappointment and regret would show like this on her features.

"Let's get you to bed. It's not like this feasting will get any more sophisticated from here on", Éowyn said briskly and began to steer her towards the doors. Too weary to refuse, the younger woman simply followed. She hoped Déorwine, or any one else she might have promised dances tonight, wouldn't be too disappointed.

They got in their bedchamber and Éowyn helped her to change into a soft shift. Gently she laid aside the golden earrings and the necklace, which Lothíriel had been wearing since morning.

When Lothíriel had curled up under the blanket and the sleeping furs, Éowyn sat down on the edge of the bed and touched her arm.

"Tell me honestly", she spoke in solemn tones, "Did you quarrel with my brother tonight?"

"No", Lothíriel whispered, pulling the covers closer to her chin. "He's... he's too good and I'm a fool. That's all there is to it."

Her friend sat a moment longer next to her, though she said nothing. At last Éowyn let out a sigh.

"Sleep well. Morning may clear many things, my friend", she said and got up at last. Then she tiptoed out of the room, leaving Lothíriel to her thoughts and to the agony that now burned in her breast more fiercely than ever.

Oh, what a wretched thing it was to love.

* * *

It was very early when Lothíriel woke up. Sun was only just rising, peeking her blinding face inside the chamber she shared with Éowyn. Sitting up in the bed, she saw her friend was still fast asleep, curled up so tight that only the top of golden-haired head was visible. She hadn't heard her coming in last night.

Lothíriel got up as quietly as she could and dressed in a modest dark green gown that did not require lacing up. Picking up her shawl and a pair of boots, she tiptoed outside. She finished dressing and braiding her hair once she was in the corridor.

After several noisy and eventful days, the quiet and emptiness in the fortress was poignant. It seemed no one else was up yet, which probably meant the feast had carried on until early hours. Soon she noted the passageways were not entirely empty, though: on her way to the kitchens, she passed by a few Rohirrim who had decided to sleep on the floor of the corridor instead of finding their own appointed lodgings, wrapped up in their cloaks. Their snores never faltered as she walked past.

Eventually, her mind was turned to _him_. What had he done after taking his leave of her? Had he tried to find her? Had he spent the rest of the night thinking about the kiss that had almost been? Or had he cast it from his mind the moment he was able to git rid of her? The memory of them standing together on the wall made her lips tingle, as if to torment her with the idea of what could have been, and in the mockery of that spoiled moment. Disappointment twisted in the pit of her stomach, but her mind tried to reason: it would be twice as bad if they _had_ kissed. And much more difficult to get over him.

She swallowed hard. There was no easy way of leaving Éomer behind now. And if he feared spring and the moment of parting, so did she.

The kitchens were the only place so far that was not entirely deserted. Lady Léoma was there along with a few other women, eating early breakfast together. Erkenbrand's wife smiled and bid her to join them, which Lothíriel did with a wan smile.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" asked Léoma when she was seated with some hot tea and porridge before her.

"It was lovely. Very noisy, of course, but I liked it", she replied. She didn't add that the night had been unforgettable in more than just one way.

"I am glad to hear it. I had not thought Yuletide would be so happy here in the Westfold. It was needed after all the sorry things that have happened lately. You see, Théodred Prince used to hold this fortress while he lived. He was well loved among those who dwell here, and his loss a grave blow. But you and the Lady Éowyn have brought some laughter and sunshine in the middle of winter", Léoma spoke in solemn those, and those of the other ladies that were close enough to hear, nodded in agreement.

"What do the people of Westfold think of his cousin, who is now king?" Lothíriel asked carefully.

"He's the first of a new line and a lord of East-Mark by birth, even if he has Eorl's blood from both sides. It's not a position I envy", Léoma began slowly. But her tone lightened a little bit when she continued, "He is doing better than most expected. And it seems fate has chosen him."

Lothíriel did not ask further. But she could well imagine what Léoma meant.

"Is Lady Éowyn awake yet?" Léoma inquired then, leaving the previous topic behind.

"No. She was fast asleep when I left our bedchamber. She must be exhausted", said Lothíriel with a faint smile.

"Aye, I imagine so; I saw her sitting up late with her brother", Léoma agreed. A faint, gentle smile touched her features, "It is good to see her so happy. I remember how wan and pale she looked back before the war."

"Indeed. But she deserves her happiness", Lothíriel noted softly. "She is to live in Ithilien, which used to be a fair and rich land. The garden of Gondor, it was called. I think it needs someone like her to heal it again. Only one who has looked into the shadow can truly understand what it means to rise from it."

"I do not doubt your words, but what are strange, distant lands to us who are to stay? Who is to be the one who heals our hurts? The King will do what he can, of that I have no doubt, but to rebuild this land and mend its wounds is a task that takes more than one man can give. Some had hoped Lady Éowyn would stand by him until our struggles our people are past. It will be a sad day when she leaves Rohan. For so long, she has been the closest thing we have to a queen. Meduseld needs a mistress, and I worry for what will come of it once our White Lady has left us", said the older woman with a slight shake of her head.

"Well, there are many hurts in the world. Who can count or hope to fix them all? And a day may come when Rohan is glad that House of Eorl allied with that of the Stewards of Gondor", Lothíriel remarked, and after that, they spoke no more of that matter.

Once she had eaten, Lothíriel took her leave of the ladies again. A few people were now moving about the corridors, but it was still fairly quiet. As the sun was now shining so brightly, she decided to go and get some fresh air.

It felt a little bit warmer now outside, though not yet warm enough to melt the snow. The steps leading up to the rampart were slippery: some new snow had fallen but it had melted and then frozen again. She climbed up carefully, as she didn't want to tumbling down to the ground. Now there was another hazard of living in the Hornburg she hadn't considered.

The landscape basked in early morning's light. It was almost blinding thanks to snow, making her blink until her eyes adjusted. Several people were now moving in the courtyard as the fortress was slowly coming back to life.

Lothíriel halted to stand at the very spot she and Éomer had stood last night. Carefully she put her hands where he had leant his arms, tracing cold stone with her fingertips. She felt wretched. Men kissed women all the time without meaning anything serious by it. She ought to know, having three older brothers. And young, handsome kings probably had no lack in willing partners.

But then, he had spoken of his dread of spring and the day of parting. His words had suggested it was not just Éowyn's going that dismayed him and he had said it had felt like family between the three of them. Before, she had surmised he regarded her much in the same way as his sister. However, last night's dance and the moment on the rampart did not imply brotherly affection on his part.

She bit her lip as she tried to understand what it all meant. Well, she knew what she wanted to believe, but that was a dangerous road. And what did such heartfelt desires matter in the large scale of things? Even if he did fancy her in some small degree, it didn't mean he would do anything about it. Maybe he _couldn't._ For Lothíriel had seen the troubles of Rohirrim, and only this morning Lady Léoma had made it clear that his lordship over the West-Mark was not absolute. A bride from the Westfold was the obvious answer. He would have to marry in Rohan. Even if the House of Eorl and the House of Stewards of Gondor were to be united, it didn't mean that the King himself could be looking outside the borders of his land. In fact, the lords of both kingdoms would probably agree that one union was quite enough.

Lothíriel let out a sigh and straightened herself. She was starting to feel cold and desolate. No amount of mulling over this would change the matter for better or for worse. In the end, the initiative had to come from Éomer himself, if he had a mind for it. She knew well enough she had no right, the political prestige or the courage to ask for his hand.

"My lady Lothíriel. Good morning", a sudden voice startled her. She turned around to see Lord Déorwine standing few feet away from her. So lost in her thoughts she had been, she had not noticed his arrival at all.

"Good morning, Lord Déorwine", she greeted him with a curtsy. She was aware it wasn't very graceful, but standing in the cold had left her more stiff than she had first noticed.

"I missed you last night, my lady. I believe you promised a dance to me", he said, not quite as smooth and charming as normally.

Lothíriel lowered her eyes in embarrassment. Indeed, now she could recall promising to dance with him after Éomer. Last night she had forgotten about it completely, at least until the moment she had started to feel poorly. Reason for that was clear to her, but she wasn't certain of how to explain it without hurting his feelings.

"I am sorry", she said carefully at length. "I didn't mean to ignore you. I was just... I was distracted."

"Yes, it was quite plain to see for anyone who has eyes", he remarked dryly, making her blush. She knew Éomer had very well put her under his spell especially for that third dance, but that she had been so transparent to all observers? Any lady of Gondor in her right mind would deem it a disgrace to forget oneself before so many eyewitnesses. On the other hand, she didn't think even they would be immune to the irresistible charms of the King of Rohan.

"Lord Déorwine, I really am sorry. I know my behaviour was far from proper. But don't think it was meant as an insult", she tried to apologise again, but his annoyance was not quite soothed yet. Why was he so irritated when at all turns she had tried to make it clear she was not available?

"It is him, then? The King is the reason you keep refusing other offers, isn't he?" he demanded to know, stepping closer. She had not think he was capable of aggression, that his temper was entirely too mild to rouse heated emotions. Once, she had even thought he would never be able to get angry with her. But now it seemed she had not perceived his character in full.

"My lord -" Lothíriel tried to begin, but he cut her off swiftly.

"So you keep hanging on this hope that the blind fool will take notice of you. Tell me, was it the throne you were after all along? Did you really come here to instruct Lady Éowyn, or to try to catch the biggest fish of them all while other noble maidens of Gondor were far away? I had taken you for a lady of unusual grace and character, but now I wonder if I had it wrong", he asked hotly. His features twisted in a sneer, losing all the fairness he had.

Her eyes began to burn in pain and humiliation. How could he say something so cruel! Yes, she had tried to tell herself that her feelings were but a silly infatuation, but it had been mainly to assuage her own heart. And not for a second had she thought of Éomer fondly because he was king; all her admiration for him as a ruler came simply from the hardships he was willing to put himself through so that his people, even someone like Déorwine, could live in peace and prosperity.

And somehow that very thing revived her pride and spirit.

"If you are so eager to think badly of me, then maybe you never had a good idea of my character. I do not deny that I have been foolish and naive, but even then all I wanted was to support my friend. You are welcome to believe whatever you will, if it helps you to soothe your injured pride, but do not ever presume you may speak to me of King Éomer like that and still keep my good faith", she announced, having found her courage once more. Proudly she lifted her chin in challenge and she wound her arms across her chest.

The sneer vanished from his features. Instead, he looked at her in surprise and wonder, speechless all of a sudden. But Lothíriel already feared for her resolve. Could she maintain such steely countenance for long? Perhaps it was better not to try her luck. At any rate, they had now made things quite clear to one another.

So she brushed past him, heading for the stairs so that she could get down into the courtyard. While her newly found pride and her own surprise at revealing it still beat hotly inside her head, she was aware that her limbs were now cold and stiff. She needed to get back inside.

Lothíriel was taking the first step down the stairs when suddenly, a hand grasped her wrist: Déorwine had followed her and was trying to stop her. However, his grip was not too tight and she yanked her arm away instinctively. She opened her mouth to angrily reproach him.

But there was no chance to convey her disapproval, because something else happened. Her foot found no purchase on stone. Ground vanished from under her, she gasped in alarm, and then she fell.

Pain exploded across her head and all went dark.

* * *

The very first thing she knew was pain. It was overwhelming and urgent, and at first she could not say which part of her body felt it the most. It grew more intense when she opened her eyes: colour, shapes and light made her head throb with renewed agony. Had she been able to talk, she would have begged the voices around her to quiet down. What had happened she couldn't say and she didn't bother to try and recall. Her head hurt enough as it was and all she wanted was to fall back to numb darkness.

"... I think I saw her eyes open. She's coming around again", a voice was saying somewhere nearby.

"Lothíriel? Are you awake?" another voice spoke suddenly, closer than the first one. It was familiar, too, but Lothíriel had hard time thinking of names. She didn't want to answer and was still willing herself to pass out again.

"Please answer if you can hear me. It's Éowyn here", the voice said, more insistent now. Éowyn. Yes, she should respond, probably.

 _"Where is my father?"_ Lothíriel managed, much to her own surprise, though it sounded wrong somehow. She opened her eyes briefly, but it made her light-headed and sick. Light was all too bright.

"What is she saying?" someone asked.

"It's Sindarin. She's asking for her father", Éowyn answered, sounding concerned.

"Eyes seem normal and there's no bleeding in the ears", another said.

"But her speech is slurred. The injury may be more serious than we thought", a new voice stated. A hushed conversation followed this, and Lothíriel felt too disoriented to try and follow it.

"... no, the guard said the fall looked worse than it was really. She's in a lot of pain, of course she won't be able to talk clearly", the first voice argued.

"Either way, we need to examine her more closely, and something needs to be done about that arm soon. We must set it right away."

The voices apparently agreed about this. Then one of them addressed to Éowyn again,"We've got everything under control, Lady Éowyn. The best you can do now is go and calm the King down before he breaks through that door."

 _Éomer is here._ She tried to tell them she wanted him, _now,_ but only a weak groan came out.

Someone leant close to her once more.

"My lady, don't be alarmed. Your arm is broken, but it seems like a clean break. We are going to set it now", the person above her said. There was some shuffling, and several people gathered close. One held her down and two were examining the arm.

A few things happened almost at once. A voice yelled outside: _Let me see her!_ There was pressure on her arm, then unspeakable agony followed, and she screamed, until the sheer amount of pain finally made her pass out.

* * *

Sounds and the whirlwind of shapes and colours had ceased when she came around again. Light still hurt her eyes somewhat, but it was not so bright anymore. Her head ached, though, especially when she tried to discern what time was it. Almost the entire left side of her body throbbed with a dull, slow pain.

Lothíriel tried to move. At once, multiple lances of pain went through her, most especially her head and her arm. A whimper escaped through her lips and she thought she might actually cry from all the discomfort she felt right then.

There was movement somewhere at the edge of her vision, which was narrow enough as it was.

"Lothíriel?" a deep, gentle voice asked. Then fingers brushed her right hand, which did not seem to hurt so much. The sound of the voice was dear and familiar and it calmed her down.

"Éomer?" she whispered. Her throat was tight and so her voice came out croaky and thin.

"You're awake. Thank Béma!" he muttered softly. "How do you feel?"

"Everything hurts", she answered at length. But behind her lay darkness, and she wasn't sure of how she had come to be in this state. "What happened?"

"You were on the rampart with Lord Déorwine, about to come down. But the steps were slippery and you fell down the stairs. Your arm was broken and you hit your head when you landed", he replied gravely. She could now see him sitting next to her and she was in a bed. It looked like her and Éowyn's room.

"Oh", she answered, not knowing what else to say. Yes, she could remember bits now: hurrying towards the stairs, her foot slipping on icy stone, and then unspeakable pain...

"I saw you go down. For a moment I thought..." Éomer said, but his voice died abruptly, like it was too hard to finish the sentence. He let out a heavy breath and then continued to talk, "Lothíriel, I'm sorry that I have to ask you this now, but can you remember what happened? Did Déorwine... did he push you down?"

She blinked in confusion. The question made no sense, but she couldn't answer it either way. When she tried to think back, the pain in her head grew stronger.

"W-why are you asking?" she stammered.

"Guards said it looked like you and him were arguing. You were walking quickly like you were trying to get away from him. And they saw his hands on you only seconds before you fell", he said in quiet, heavy voice. His dark eyes burned dangerously, and even in her addled state, she knew that right now, Déorwine's life was hanging on a delicate balance.

She closed her eyes and attempted to recall. Yes, they had been talking of something, but she couldn't say if it had been an argument or not. The only thing she could recall clearly was the fall.

"I-I don't know. My head-" she whimpered and struggled to breathe.

"It's all right", he hurried to say, and his fingers traced her cheek so carefully it was as though she was more fragile than glass. "It's all right. Just breathe. I shouldn't have asked. Don't worry about it, dear heart. You need to rest."

Her heart slowed down again and distress faded. With it, the pain eased slightly.

"You do not know how I feared for you today, Lothíriel. Few things scare me as much as the idea of you being hurt", he said in a low, downcast voice.

"I should have been more careful", she uttered.

"I don't think it was your fault", he said darkly, though he didn't mention Déorwine's name again. Then he picked up her right hand in his own and kissed it ever so slightly.

"Try to get some sleep. Don't be troubled. Éowyn will be here shortly. She'll watch over you while you get some rest", he promised. She wanted to ask him to stay, but kept the thought to herself.

"My head hurts. Can't you ask a healer to give me anything for the pain?" she asked instead.

"I requested the same, but Hornburg's healers wouldn't allow it. They say it's not wise while they're not sure of how badly you hurt your head", he answered regretfully.

She sighed heavily. Well, she should have known to expect it. But maybe there was at least one thing he could grant her.

"Stay until I fall asleep?" she asked him quietly. She knew it would make her feel a little less miserable.

"Of course", he promised, and at last she saw something that resembled a smile on his features.

She smiled a little bit too – and not least because he was still holding her hand.

* * *

She slept or dozed off for the most of the day. A few times she woke up when one of the healers came to check on her, asking some easy questions and examining her eyes and ears. But apparently the signs were well enough, because Éowyn's expression grew a little less concerned once she had spoken with the healers.

The White Lady had arrived some time while Lothíriel had slept. She sat in the chair Éomer had occupied earlier, working on the shirt she was making for Faramir. They didn't speak much, as Lothíriel was too tired and in pain to hold a conversation, and loud noises still bothered her somewhat. In the evening, Éowyn helped her to drink some hot broth. When the patient asked for the King again, Éowyn looked regretful.

"The second day of Yule celebrations is going on, and he's needed there. But the atmosphere is quite different from yesterday. They will all be thinking of you", Éowyn said gravely.

"If everybody is feasting, then you should go and be with them. I'm not great company right now", Lothíriel tried. Yule was why they had come in the first place, after all.

"Don't think I could celebrate anything while you are not well. And in any case, the healers said you shouldn't be left alone tonight, They believe the injury to your head is not serious, but we are not going to risk it", Éowyn said firmly and reached to gently pat her good hand.

"I'm sorry I ruined Yule. I shouldn't have been on that rampart", Lothíriel muttered. Her eyes began to burn in shame and regret. This was the absolute opposite of her designs, and it felt horrible to think she had spoiled Éomer and Éowyn's last Yule together.

"You speak like you meant to do it! Don't be silly, my friend. It was an accident and while it's regrettable, I'm glad you weren't hurt worse", Éowyn said, and her tone implied she would take no more of such talk.

Soon enough Lothíriel dozed off again. The pain in her head had lessened a little bit, allowing easier rest. But her left arm, now tightly wrapped and tended, often bothered her. Father would be wroth to hear of all this, which was dismal to think. She would have to make sure he understood it was no one's fault but hers when she was well enough to write.

Healers came again during the night, though they now seemed more convinced that the injury was not serious. Éowyn had gone and instead, Éomer kept watch by her bedside. He looked exhausted and Lothíriel bid him to go to bed, but he would not have any of it.

"I'm not going anywhere while any doubt remains. I told you earlier that I can't bear the idea of you hurting", he told her gravely.

"Éomer... I'm sorry I caused all this bother. I wanted you and Éowyn to have a good time", she whispered, feeling wretched all over again.

"But I did have a good time, dear fool. Last night was wonderful", he replied calmly as he sat back in the chair. His words rather took her by surprise. Even with the fuzz of this day's events, last night she recalled clearly. It had meant something for him, too.

Maybe there was hope, after all. But wish as she might, she did not dare to grasp that idea fully. So she said nothing.

"Rest now. I'll stay close", he said, propping his feet up on the edge of the bed.

With a sigh, she settled down again and closed her eyes.

A new day came, dimmer than yesterday had been. The room was quiet as she woke and the chair next to her bed was empty.

She sat up carefully, ready to fall back if it felt too much. But while there still was an ache in her head, it felt milder than the last time she had been awake. In fact, her arm was much worse. Her side was sore, too: she guessed she had landed on it when she had fallen.

She lifted her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to rise. Her knees felt a little unsteady, but not impossibly so. She was still in the middle of her attempt when the door opened and Éowyn stepped inside.

"And what do you think you're doing? The healers haven't yet taken a look at you today!" she exclaimed in anxiety, putting aside the tray she had been carrying and hurrying to her friend's side. She began to push her down, though her hands were gentle and careful.

"I'm fine. My head feels much better", Lothíriel said, but in her present state she was no match for her friend. She fell down to sit again.

"Are you certain? Head injuries are no laughing matter. You could have been hurt very badly", Éowyn said, examining her face as though she still expected to see some alarming sign.

"Don't worry, Éowyn. I'd just like to stretch myself a little bit", said Lothíriel. Maybe, if she got out of bed, her friends would not be so concerned over her.

"We'll see what the healer says", Éowyn insisted. "And in any case, you should eat something."

She had brought enough food for them both, thick creamy porridge and rolls fresh from the ovens, and some ripe cheese. There were even some berries, preserved since harvest. Lothíriel knew it was an unusual fare even for a high lady at this time, but apparently Éomer and Éowyn were not the only ones fussing about her.

When they were eating, something from yesterday returned to Lothíriel's mind. She looked at her friend.

"Éomer said something yesterday... he wanted to know about what happened. He asked if Lord Déorwine pushed me down the stairs. Why would he ask such a thing?" she wondered out loud.

Éowyn's features were grave.

"Because the circumstances were unclear. There were guards saying it looked like you argued with him, and that his hand was on you when you fell", she replied at length and let out a sigh. "My brother should not have asked so soon. The healers said it wouldn't be wise to strain you. But he became a little mad when he saw you on the ground, and then some more when he spotted Déorwine right where you fell from. I suppose he was eager to know if he could go and strangle the poor bugger."

"What happened? Is Lord Déorwine all right?" Lothíriel asked in alarm. She had not realised at all what kind of light it would put him in! And Lord Erkenbrand and Lady Léoma, too, for they were Déorwine's uncle and aunt. Her dismay grew. It sounded like her stupid accident had caused a political scandal!

"He was seized from the scene and has been under lock and key since then. Éothain interrogated him yesterday. Déorwine insists he's innocent, but Éomer will not release him until you have had your say", the White Lady replied.

"I am so sorry about everything. I had no idea it was this bad", Lothíriel said, her appetite all gone at these news. Once again she reproached herself for ever going to the rampart. She should have taken notice of the slippery stairs and remain in the courtyard!

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and went on to add, "But for the record, I don't remember him pushing me down. No, he wouldn't do such a thing."

"Then can you tell me what you were talking about, Lothíriel?" Éowyn asked gently.

The younger woman tried to focus. She could recall being angry, but the words they had spoken kept escaping her. And the more she struggled to remember, the more her head hurt.

Her friend saw her discomfort and reached to touch her uninjured hand.

"It's all right. It will come back in time, perhaps. If you can't remember now, then we shall let it be for now. Éomer would have my hide if he thought that I had upset you and delayed your recovery", she said, growing concerned once more.

"Still, I'm sure Déorwine didn't do anything. He wouldn't hurt me, and I think I'd remember if he did. Please tell Éomer to set him free. I can't have your brother in dispute with Lord Erkenbrand because of me", Lothíriel said anxiously. She remembered Lady Léoma's words once more. She and her husband were well respected in West-Mark, and in some regards even more so than the King himself. What a mess it would be if some stupid southern lady was the cause of dissent between them! Father would never let her leave the palace by the sea again.

"I will speak with him", Éowyn promised. Her eyes remained solemn when she added, "But you must understand my brother reacted so strongly only because it was you who came under harm."

Lothíriel said nothing. She stared at her cup of tea and thought of how evidence was amassing now, and had for some time, but she had stubbornly turned a blind eye to it. Perhaps he did care for her like she did for him. But if he did, then why wouldn't he say anything? For she would go to him in a heartbeat if he just asked.

On the other hand, he was always worrying about everything, always dreading the worst.

Maybe this was not different. Maybe... he was just as afraid of rejection as she.

* * *

A couple of days passed while she convalesced. The pain in her head faded, though her arm remained a bother. Even smallest tasks were difficult, but thankfully Éowyn or Hild were always ready to help. When she first changed shifts, she saw the many bruises acquired during her fall. The greater portion of the now blue and purple discolouring covered her left side, especially her upper thigh. At least the healers soon gave her a permission to start moving about. Lothíriel wasn't sure how she would have managed the recovery if they had told her to stay abed.

Ladies of the fortress often kept her company when Éowyn was busy, and Éomer too came to sit awhile with her whenever he could. He was gentle and caring and she loved him more than ever, though she didn't say anything. And she recalled the night atop the rampart and the kiss they had almost shared there. But to her relief, it didn't shadow their conversations now. She guessed things wouldn't be so easy without her injury.

Déorwine did not show his face. He had been released soon enough: Éowyn had relayed Lothíriel's words to Éomer and after questioning her himself, he had eventually agreed that the decision to seize the young lord had been a hasty one. So far, it didn't seem like his brief imprisonment had caused bad blood between the King and his Marshal, even if there were some mutterings among the people, as Éowyn reported to her friend. All the same, he didn't come to pay his respects to Lothíriel, or send any word. She wondered if it was because of guilt or shame.

Some memories of their talk she had been able to regain, and she could now recall the contempt he had shown, thinking she had only rejected him because she was after a bigger fish. As such, she was glad he did not come to see her. Nor did she report the cause of their argument to Éomer or Éowyn, for she knew they would just get angry. And if they did, another scandal was a very likely to occur.

So passed the Yuletide, and it was not even close to what she had hoped. But when the fourth came since her accident came, there was a shift in the air.

Lothíriel woke up to some noise in the courtyard. Éowyn had already got up and left her, so she couldn't ask her friend what was afoot. Peering out of the window, she saw a company of Riders getting ready, preparing their horses and speaking with eagerness that often precedes a journey. She saw they were Knights wearing the rich green cloaks of the King's Guard. Éomer was riding out, it seemed. She frowned to herself. He hadn't said anything to her last night when he had visited her.

Anxious to go and bid him farewell, she searched for her dressing-gown and slippers. It was difficult to pull the garment on without help, but she managed it with some muttered Rohirric curses. She found the language of Rohan was much better for cursing than Sindarin or Common Tongue; Amrothos would be fascinated to hear it.

She had managed to clumsily tie the dressing-gown when there was a knock on the door. Then Éomer stepped inside, fully armoured, his cloak flowing down his shoulders. She fell to sit down on the bed from sheer emotion that overtook her.

"Good morning, Lothíriel. I hope I'm not disturbing you?" he greeted her with a smile. He looked like had already been to a hundred places this morning.

"Good morning. No, you're not disturbing me. I was just about to go find out what is going on", she replied, feeling shabby all of a sudden. She hadn't had a chance to wash her face or comb her hair. Where she looked like she had just tumbled out of some bush, he was tall and golden and fair. She wondered if he always seemed so. Even when he had lain injured, she had thought he was more than Mortal Men usually were.

"That is what I came to tell you", he said, approaching her and sitting down next to her on the unmade bed. "I need to ride for the Isen again, but I had to see you before I go."

"Has something happened?" she asked in concern.

"Not to my knowledge, though the Dunlendings are restless. I must go and see that things don't get out of hand again, even if I'd much prefer to stay here", he said solemnly. He took a deep breath and looked straight at her. His dark, keen eyes took her captive once more.

"These past couple days, I've kept my silence so that you may heal in peace. But there's something important I need to talk about with you, Lothíriel. There's no time now. So I ask you to wait for me until I may return. Rest well and get better. I wish that you will never be hurt again while you remain in the Mark", he said to her, deep and slow. And she knew very well what she hoped. Perhaps the moment on the rampart had not ruined everything. Maybe it was just the unfortunate timing of her accident that had prevented something quite significant.

But she knew he had to go now, and no matter how much her heart yearned, she wanted him to make no heartfelt confessions when there was no time. But until such moment came, he ought to know there was hope.

So she leant closer to him, lifted herself a little bit by the help of her good hand, and quickly pressed her lips against his cheek. Before pulling back, she breathed in the scent of his skin. It was a warm, reassuring smell and she could never get enough of it.

"Stay safe", Lothíriel said quietly, like she had once before.

Ever so gently, he cradled her head between his hands. He looked at her in a way that made her mouth run dry.

"Always", he spoke, also remembering that other parting, and then kissed the top of her head as light as feather. Lothíriel closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, he was already gone.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** Who doesn't love a bit of drama every now and then? :D To be honest, though, I originally did not mean to do anything like this. But when I thought of how to resolve the matter of Déorwine, I chose to introduce a bit of conflict to get the characters where I want them.

Also, Lothíriel is now giving some careful consideration to the possibility that Éomer does return her feelings. But she feels like he should take the initiative, seeing he's a king and may not be politically able to pursue her. Close to the end of the chapter she begins to wonder if it's really just because he's as afraid of being rejected as herself. But we'll see how these matters will be resolved!

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Wtiger5 -** Drunks seem to have an annoying ability to ruin precious moments, indeed!

I think she's maybe starting to get there, even if the conflict in this chapter hinders it more or less!

 **Serni -** :D Well, what can I say? I love to tease, and clueless fools are some of the best characters to write! :D

 **aryaputra -** :D Oh, I hope you didn't wake up anybody! Though I'm quite pleased to make such an impression.

 **EStrunk -** I do like my teasing, yes! :D And that bit about her feeling nervous with her hair down was fun to write. It's nice to be able to add little things like that in stories!

 **Tibblets -** Thanks! :)

 **sai19 -** Thank you! And you are quite right! Slow burns make for delicious resolutions!

 **Cricklewood16 -** Glad to hear your reactions! That was some good stuff indeed. :)

 **darkone7142 -** Happy to hear you think so! :)

 **Hobbitpony1 -** Thank you! I do my best. :)

 **Doranwen -** Oh, she really is not as subtle as she thinks! Still, it remains to be seen who'll make the decisive move now!

 **Menelwen -** Well, I simply can't help it! :D

That's one lovely mental picture you've got there, with them watching the dawn and taking shelter under his cloak. Almost makes me want to rewrite that last chapter's ending!

I'm glad to hear my updates bring such joy!

 **EstellaCrane -** Here goes!

 **Bell -** Oh dear, I hadn't imagined the ending would impact anyone so strongly! Hopefully some time soon, I'll be able to give a more satisfactory situation.

 **blasttyrant -** I'm sorry, I guess? :D

 **Anon -** That's a lovely idea! :D We'll see what happens.

It's interesting for me to explore this struggle he has with his grief and guilt over not being able to take joy in peace like others do. But I'm glad it doesn't dampen the mood. Well, I guess it helps that I'm writing this from Lothíriel's POV, and she doesn't have those issues, so his melancholy does show in a more hopeful light. And she is hopeful by nature, so she tries not to be too affected by her despair that he'll never return her feelings.

 **JenB -** Thank you very much! I'm flattered to hear you think so highly of my stories. :)

 **Wondereye -** There may be forces at work already!

 **Jo -** Indeed! ;)

 **PilotDante -** Here it is!

 **Nibel Verius Yggdrasil -** Thank you for your comments! You leave such lovely reviews. :) And don't worry about it being late! I understand that real life can be hectic at times.

I have to admit, I just had to write a dancing scene for him and her simply because they were denied it before! I'm glad it was a delightful read. But you are right, he's finding he can be bolder with her than he previously imagined.

Also thanks for your compliment! I am very much driven by the characters to write, so it's great to hear I've managed to give them soul and personality.

 **HannahKathleen -** There has been some misfortune for them, indeed!

 **Guest -** Thank you! I'm glad you like the story. :)

 **frank . kilgenschmidt -** How could I not? :D

Anyway, I'm glad you liked the chapter. As a writer, I'm happy to hear that you are so invested in the story!

I've been learning English more than half of my life, and spent several years practising my writing. So if it had not got anywhere in this time, I would have already quit. Still, thank you very much for the compliment!


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Days of recovery were slow and frustrating. While Lothíriel's head healed soon enough, her arm remained a bother. Her muscles were stiff and aching after the fall, which made moving difficult. But the healers encouraged her to go about as normally as possible. It would help her body heal properly.

So she took walks about the fortress, first with someone to escort and then often alone. Once Éowyn was convinced her guest wasn't going to drop dead, she became less insistent on having someone keep an eye on Lothíriel. Wryly the younger woman thought she must really have given her friends a scare.

She was not sorry for a chance to walk alone at times. It gave her time to think over the events in the Hornburg. Her talk with Lord Déorwine, the accident, and the long hours of agony that had followed... but also the night of Yule and Éomer's farewell. Time and again she dissected his words and actions before he had taken leave of her. He wanted to speak of something important with her...

Lothíriel knew what she hoped. Maybe he had felt same as her when they stood on the wall. Maybe his intention to kiss her had not been just a drunken impulse.

 _My brother never hugs anybody,_ Éowyn had said. It went beyond that, though. He didn't touch people, period. But he did touch _her,_ however carefully. And why would he be careful? Because he didn't trust himself with her. She could well understand the sentiment, for she knew the peril there was in putting her hands anywhere near him.

She sighed as she took seat on a wide window board that overlooked the Deep. Her injured arm was in a sling and she fumbled around a bit to get her shawl to shield it from the draft of cold air that came through glass. Down in the courtyard, Rohirrim were moving about, now returned to their usual labours as the time of feasting had passed. She watched them and thought whether she could ever feel at home here in Rohan, if _he_ did ask the question she wanted him to. And the answer was not hard to come by. Yes, it was different than Dol Amroth. There was no sea here, no vast libraries to get lost in, or three brothers to tease her and dote on her. But in this land, she was seen as a woman who had things to offer. Here she was _alive,_ not just drifting from one day to another, already knowing the pattern of weeks and months to come. In Rohan, she was not just a child others paid attention to when they were not distracted with more important matters. The ladies she had met were friendly and straightforward; there did not seem to have this habit of nasty gossip among them. And she felt like she could understand the land and the people a little bit now. She saw their pride and courage and spirit. From their ranks had risen a man like _him._ Even in these waning days, there was such a lord among Mortal Men _._

And she wanted him. It was something burning and unforeseen. She couldn't recall ever really _desiring_ anything, not in this way, not in her very bones. She had not guessed how dangerous it could be when one's want was for another person. What a strange sensation it was, being so eager for their next meeting, and yet fearing it so that her hands started to shake.

Lothíriel lifted her good hand to her face and rubbed her forehead. Never in her life had she felt so confused. Now she could understand why he so feared the spring. For what if the matter he wanted to talk about with her was to tell her not expect anything? And that she too should prepare herself for separation?

Thankfully, it was then Éowyn arrived to interrupt her racing thoughts. Maybe she was spending too much time alone, mulling over her doubts again and again.

"There you are", said her friend, smiling as she came, "I was wondering where you had hidden yourself."

"I was just walking. I was feeling restless", Lothíriel replied, though she couldn't say she was any calmer now.

The window board was wide enough for them both to sit on, and she made space for the White Lady. Before she did, Éowyn gazed out and breathed deeply, as if she was inhaling sunlight. Then she took seat and touched her friend's uninjured arm.

"I was thinking of Edoras today", she said solemnly. "I should like to get back soon, and start making plans for the wedding. There is much that needs to be done, if we mean to receive a retinue from Gondor and celebrate fittingly."

She continued before Lothíriel could say anything, "But I was also worried if you are ready to travel. Do you think you could ride with just one good hand? If you have any doubts, then you can stay here as Léoma's guest as long as it takes."

The younger of the two did not say anything at first. No doubt the lady of the fortress would be a warm and welcoming hostess, but she also saw too sharply through her. Léoma's husband was Erkenbrand, who was uncle to Déorwine; she had brought enough bother to their dwelling as it was. And to be honest, Lothíriel found she rather missed Edoras. She wanted to be close to Éowyn in case her support was somehow needed.

Not to mention, Éomer might head straight back home once his business at the border was finished...

"Well", she started carefully, knowing Éowyn would insist she stay here if she in any way doubted that Lothíriel was not yet ready. She glanced at her friend, "It's not like there's anything else wrong with me than my arm. Perhaps it will make riding more difficult. But my mare is mild-tempered and she's not hard to control, even with one hand. And I'm sure there will be plenty of expert Rohirrim around, like when we rode here."

Éowyn regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. Worried she might tell her to stay, Lothíriel quickly added, "And you know who will make a fuss if he thinks I'm not yet recovered."

Now Éowyn scoffed under her breath.

"You know my brother well, Lothíriel", she said wryly, though there was a warm, fond glint in her bright eyes. "But I will not spare his nerves at the expense of your health. Nor would he approve of it. We'll go for a ride later today and see whether your arm hinders you too much. Remember, the miles between the Hornburg and Edoras are long."

"Who's making a fuss now?" Lothíriel asked in gentle humour, but her friend did not smile.

"Do you think I did not fear for you when you were hurt? You are like a sister to me, and I hold your well-being as important as my brother's. It bothers me just as it does him that you came to harm while staying as our guest", Éowyn said gravely.

"But you and him were not the ones who made me run like a fool on icy stone. You blame yourselves needlessly", Lothíriel said, now more resolute than ever to show her friends that she could very well ride even if her arm was injured. She had to make them forget this silly notion that this was somehow their responsibility.

"Even so, a host's duty is a serious matter. No Eorling would take it lightly to have their honoured guest suffer any kind of injury while under their roof", Éowyn replied, stubborn as ever – and resembling her brother more than usually.

Lothíriel refrained from sighing in frustration. There was no getting through to some people. Maybe her friend would forget about it once she was convinced that the broken arm would not be a hindrance.

Hopefully it would also remind both members of the House of Eorl that she was not as fragile as they thought her.

* * *

Éowyn continued to bear uncanny resemblance to her absent brother. As soon as they had dressed for riding and came to the courtyard, she started to fuss. In rapid succession, she was giving tips on how to manage a horse with just one hand, or giving orders to the stablemen like nobody's business. Somewhere, a stepping board was produced so that Lothíriel could get on the back of her mare more easily. She still felt a bit insecure, but a stableman almost as tall as Erkenbrand and about as broad stood right behind her, ready to catch her if she lost her balance. Grabbing the saddle with her good hand, she was able to lift herself to take seat. The mare shifted under her, adjusting to this strange new way her mistress had decided to mount her, but remained steady and patient while Lothíriel found her bearings again.

She took a deep breath as the bear-like stableman offered the reins to her and collected them in one hand. She believed she could command them still, and use more of her lower body to control the horse; she had got some practice here in Rohan and fancied that her skills had grown.

"Still good?" Éowyn asked as she mounted her own steed Windfola.

"Yes. I think I can manage this", Lothíriel said, her self-confidence growing now that she was actually in saddle. But her friend did not yet seem convinced.

They started easily enough, just a bit of slow walking and as much as there was space in the courtyard. It went well enough. However, the actual journey back to Edoras would not be at this crawling pace.

Even so, she was able to ride down the causeway and then, after a moment's hesitation, urged the mare into canter. Éowyn rode by her right side and a guard from the Hornburg on her left, both keeping close. Lothíriel tried not to mind it too much, rather focusing on the fields ahead and the way her horse answered to her movements.

Her balance held. First she was sitting more heavily than normal, as though a feeble hold of additional hand was some safeguard against falling. But now that she was paying more attention to her posture, she eventually began to relax and to trust her mare. And when she did, she felt like understanding some truth that had been veiled to her until now, and that before this moment, she had not even known what it was to be a rider.

No, she would never be the equal of Rohirrim in their natural ease with horses. But she could take pride in being better than she herself used to be.

And perhaps it meant she could fit in among the proud people of the North.

* * *

Two days later, the court began their journey back to Edoras. Much to Lothíriel's relief, Éowyn had not tried to make her stay behind. Something on their first ride had indeed convinced the White Lady, although she still insisted that a couple of guards would remain close for the whole of the journey, and assist Lothíriel whenever it was needed. Knowing when to take her victory and when to give in, the younger woman didn't refuse this arrangement.

As weather had grown warmer again and snows had somewhat melted, there was not such episode as before their arrival in the Hornburg. But much of the snow still remained on the great plains, and Lothíriel wondered at the sight of such whiteness, even more intense on the open fields than back in the Deep. Against vast, spotless blankets covering the land, sunlight almost grew bright enough to hurt her eyes.

 _His_ land was strange as it was beautiful. Back in Dol Amroth, the very world around her did not change in these drastic ways. True, sea rarely looked the same as it had on the day before, and it would seem mellow in sunlight or wild and untameable in storm. But this – this turn from green to yellow to white in the land, the sunlight that would glimmer in gold or deepest red against snow-clad mountains and yet reveal millions of white jewels, brighter than any stone, when it touched the ground! And the skies were so vast in Rohan, and just like the land, it could reflect colours deeper and richer than any mortal hand could produce. It seemed like a matter of song to her, and Lothíriel wondered if it was partly the reason Rohirrim loved their music so well.

So they rode back to the capital of Rohan, camping on the way for night and spending most of daytime in saddle. Lothíriel managed fairly well with even with her one arm in a sling, though some help was still necessary, especially when she needed to mount or dismount. After the first day Éowyn seemed to relax too, trusting now in her friend's ability to make the journey. When at times their eyes met, Lothíriel stared back steadily. _I am hardier than you know._

Perhaps, in part, that thought was also directed at herself.

If her injured arm had been a bother back in the Hornburg, it was even more so in the camps on the road. It seemed there were always things in way that would require a pair of hands instead of one. Tent flaps, limited space inside them when one got dressed, eating by the camp-fire, getting washed... she was fortunate to have Éowyn close by, for her friend was always ready to help. One time, when Lothíriel was apologising for being such a nuisance, the White Lady waved the matter away.

"I know well how frustrating it is, not being able to move and do things by yourself", she said and the memory of her own injuries on battlefield was in her eyes. "Don't think I have forgotten your friendship and aid when we first came to know one another in the Houses of Healing."

After that, she did not apologise again. She hadn't forgotten that time, either.

But as unpleasant the days of travel were, Lothíriel didn't complain. She thought about all the pains her friends had gone through, of Éomer riding back to Edoras, battered from neck to toe and fever rising. But stubbornly he had made it home, no matter how much he was hurting. Not that she was as badly off as he had been then, but the thought of his strength and endurance helped her to keep up her own spirits.

She wondered: did the thought of her bring relief to him, too?

Then at last after a few uncomfortable days of travel they caught the first glimpse of Edoras on the green hill and the Golden Hall gleaming in sunlight. Lothíriel gazed at the capital of horselords and felt like coming home. Yuletide had been much more eventful than she had expected and it was good to be back. Yet there was also something bittersweet about it when they began to near Edoras. It was not likely she was going to see more of Rohan now: Éowyn would be busy with the wedding preparations and there would be no time to go beyond the walls of the capital for more than an occasional riding trips.

It was late afternoon when their company reached the courtyard of Meduseld. Lothíriel felt reluctant to dismount, knowing it would truly mark the end of the journey. It was odd, feeling like this after the discomfort and nuisance of travelling with broken arm.

"Home at last!" Éowyn said as she dismounted lightly and effortlessly. "I won't be sad to be sleeping in my own bed tonight."

Lothíriel muttered something in agreement and then focused on dismounting. One of the guards assigned to aiding her readily came to help her down and she said her thanks to him. Hopefully, this would be the last time she needed another's help in it.

Éowyn came to her side and touched her shoulder.

"Let's get you inside. No need for us to stand here in the wind", she said with a smile and glanced at the great steps of Meduseld.

"I'm not made of glass", Lothíriel said in a low voice.

Her friend's expression grew serious.

"And I don't think that you are", she replied evenly. "I'm sorry. My intention was not to smother you with over-caring."

Lothíriel relaxed a little bit.

"I know. Sometimes I just feel like people look at me and see a child instead of a woman", she confessed. Before, with her father and brothers, she had simply accepted it as the state of matters. Here among her friends she hoped for a more equal standing.

"It is not how I see you at all", Éowyn insisted. "I truly am sorry if I have made you feel so. My brother and I, we can get overbearing. But you must understand it's only because I've not had a friend like you, and until now, he has not allowed himself to -"

She fell silent abruptly and frowned, knowing she had spoken more than she had intended.

"He has not allowed himself what?" Lothíriel asked eagerly. Her heart beat faster as she intently searched the face of her friend. If anybody knew Éomer's thoughts, it was Éowyn.

"It is not for me to say. You should ask him", the White Lady said uneasily and shook her head. Lothíriel knew she wouldn't be able to press Éowyn to talk or reveal what she had meant to say. This knowledge did not ease her burning curiosity, though. What had Éomer told his sister?

Damned man! Why did he have to be so far away? Even all the way from Isen, he had the ability to frustrate her so!

"Well then", Éowyn said, brisk and steady once more, "Will you come inside with me? I believe a hot bath is in order."

This time, Lothíriel followed her friend without a word.

* * *

The wedding preparations were started a couple days after their return. It was in the air now, the knowledge that spring was getting closer, and the idea of Meduseld witnessing an event that had not taken place in long years. Half the court of Gondor would be coming to observe the marriage of their steward and the famous Lady of the Shield-arm. Likewise, half the people of Rohan would be amassing to the capital to bid farewell to the woman who reminded them of queens of old.

It would take a lot of preparing. But with Éowyn's energy and drive, Lothíriel imagined anything could be achieved.

Her own days were not quite as busy. Slowly her arm healed and the pain of it lessened. At times, she thought of Déorwine, and whether he had returned to his own home already. He remained a burden on her memory, reminding her of that last hostile conversation. And yet, as horrible as her accident had been, she could not conceive him intending it. He was not malicious by heart, only very troubled by the role he hadn't wanted. On the other hand, he had made no attempts to see her or tell her he was sorry. How, then, could she forget and forgive?

Seeking comfort in thoughts of home and family, Lothíriel wrote her letters to Dol Amroth, light in tone and assuring her family there was no reason to worry over her accident. She took walks with Lady Scýne and Hild, tracing the now familiar paths and streets of Edoras. And at times she accompanied Éowyn in her many labours and made the occasional comment on Gondorian wedding traditions. Her friend was pleased to get hints of what might please Faramir.

But when Lothíriel wandered in the Hall or its outskirts alone, she was often gazing over the plains and into the western fields. Her eyes sought for a green banner and a white horsetail helmet gleaming in sunlight. When would he come? What words would he bring to her? _There is something important I need to talk with you,_ he had said to her.

In her mind, she went over the possibilities. How her heart burned at each option!

 _I love you. I want you to be my queen._

 _I love you, but I can't take a Gondorian to wife._

 _I don't love you. The Yule feast was a stupid mistake._

 _I wish you had never come to Rohan and addled my head._

 _Don't go. Don't leave._

Yet no matter how anxious she felt, there was nothing she could except wait. Would she always be waiting for him like this, hanging on his every word? Guessing and hoping and dreading the worst? And yet it was so easy to picture _everything._ Standing on the steps of Meduseld and welcoming him home, kissing the weariness of the journey from his face, and walking side by side into the Hall, where a few of their children would run to meet their father... golden-haired and full of life like him. She could almost see their faces around a table in the royal chambers, or imagine herself taking seat on the arm of his chair as he pulled him against his side. His hand in her hair, against her skin, no longer fearing to touch her. Listening to his heartbeat as she fell asleep...

Tears filled her eyes as Lothíriel pictured these moments, precious even if they were just in her mind. It felt so real, though she knew it was not wise to let them live and grow, not while any doubt and uncertainty remained.

She gazed over the plains again as she walked along the great platform on which Meduseld stood. Air was clear today, a little bit crisp with passing winter's last chill. The grasslands around the capital already showed wide patches of ground, but here and there snow spotted the land. No horse could be seen, except for a lone rider following a small herd of sheep, stretching their legs after weeks of confinement. Yet she still searched the western road with her eyes, as it was now her habit.

He was not coming.

Lothíriel let out a sigh and turned, heading back inside. It was silly to stand vigil here in the wind and catch cold. But even in the warmth of the Hall, she felt alone and purposeless. Éowyn would be busy with seamstresses at the moment, as they were creating many new gowns for her. The milder, gentler climate of Ithilien was not suitable for wearing woollen clothes.

Deciding she couldn't be hanging on Éowyn's words either, Lothíriel took some of her notes to the Queen's solar and sat down to read the records she had made of the stories and songs of Rohan. As far as she knew, no one had ever put them on paper. Of course, these written words were not the same as the actual stories. There was something about great tales of Rohan that demanded they be spoken aloud in the sonorous tongue of Eorlingas. A voice such as _his_ would bring them alive in a way one wouldn't guess just by reading the words.

Lothíriel flipped through the sheets and tried to focus. Her injured arm was itching, but she couldn't reach under the wrappings to relieve it. The healer had said this would be a good sign: the arm was healing. Right now it made her distracted, though, increasing the restless sensation in her chest. She read the words she had scribbled on the edge of one sheet.

 _Home is the Rider, home from the field._

 _And the hunter back from the hills._

Rohirrim had long before now known what it meant to yearn for another's return. But Lady Scýne had said the verse had a double meaning. It could also be sung as a eulogy for a fallen warrior, which was fitting in a heart-wrenching way. With yearning always came the fear that the Rider would return on his shield.

She pushed the notes away from herself and leant back in the chair. The low hum of Meduseld was about her. Outside in the distance, a voice was yelling commands. It sounded like the stable master was scolding the young hands over some mistake. Heavy feet were passing in the corridor and someone was singing a cleaning song; perhaps it was a maid taking laundry to be washed. Familiar, comforting sounds... sounds of home. It was never truly still here in Meduseld. Even at night, one could feel the Hall breathe. She would miss it once she went back to Dol Amroth and the quiet of great halls of stone. Where rock was voiceless and cold, it felt like the very wood of these walls had absorbed and preserved all the life of Rohirrim since Meduseld had first been built.

It was strange to think of when she had first come to Edoras. At the time, she would not have guessed that she would be leaving her heart here.

Lothíriel heard sudden noise outside in the corridor, voices speaking as though in haste. She sat up instinctively, and then the door opened.

And there _he_ was, just as in many of her dreams: fresh from the road, wind still in his golden hair, and carrying his helmet under his arm. Her heart skipped a beat. He had come straight to her the moment he had got home, not even bothering to take off his armour. And she wanted nothing as much as simply go and throw herself in his arms.

But Éomer moved before she could in her breathless surge of emotion. She answered his greeting in a shrill voice. He came to her, laid his helmet on the table, and fell on one knee before her. Gently he pressed a kiss on the back of her injured arm's hand.

"You look better than last we met. Are you well?" he asked her. Her throat felt tight for the way he was looking at her, so warm and gentle and caring, like nothing mattered to him as much as her well-being.

Like his well-being mattered to her.

"I feel fine. Just a bit frustrated about my arm, but the healer says it's healing as it should", she replied, smiling even though she felt incredibly nervous at his proximity.

Éomer smiled, too. She felt like he was staring right through her.

"I'm glad to hear it", he said, but then he gave her a stern look. "I rode back to Helm's Deep at first. It worried me not to find you there, and wondered if you travelled too soon after the accident."

"That doesn't surprise me", she said in gentle humour. "You didn't have to worry. I won't say it was the most pleasant journey of my life, but I had all the help I needed on the way."

While speaking her fingertips brushed at the golden strands of his hair, and then against his armoured shoulder.

"What is this? Why didn't you get changed and refreshed first? I could have waited", she noted. He didn't make a move to stand up or step back. That he remained there, so close that she could smell wind and leather and horses, both excited and unnerved her.

"But I couldn't", Éomer said seriously, staring straight into her eyes. It pierced her, heart and soul, and she lowered her eyes. Her cheeks felt hot. It was one thing to desire his attention like this, and another entirely to actually receive it. She had no idea of what to do with herself.

He wasn't going to let her hide from him. Gently he lifted her chin with his forefinger. And she was helpless to resist.

"Do you not know why, Lothíriel?" he asked her, and his voice was so warm and dear. She felt helpless.

"I…" she started haltingly, but no more words came out. At the same time, she wanted both to run away from him, and yet also hug him tight and never let go.

"I admit I have been stubborn, obtuse even, but this is as new to me as it's to you. For a long time, I did not dare to hope", he said evenly. She gazed at him in wonder. _He_ would doubt like she had? The man who could quite literally marry any unmarried lady he wanted in the western lands?

Her voice had got caught in her throat. In fact, she was scared she would start to cry if she tried to speak. Éomer noticed her dazed reaction, and so he continued to talk.

"I rode back as quick as I could. My men must think me insane to keep such pace in a time of peace. But like I said, I couldn't wait. You are in my thoughts always, Lothíriel, and your face haunts me even when I sleep. I cannot stand it any longer, unless there's a chance that you might feel the same. I only ask two things of you. That you come back to me when you can, and grant me the sublime honour of resting my head here, with you", he said, soft and slow. He traced his hand across her temple, brushed her hair with his fingers, and then let it fall away – like he still didn't know whether to touch her or not.

Tears filled her eyes. There was such relief in her breast as she had never known before, the kind that reminded her of coming home after a long day, or finishing an arduous task. But it also felt like being _free._

"But I do! I feel it so much that I miss you every waking moment and even in my dreams. I feel it so that I almost can't breathe when you look at me. Just as you are looking right now", she half laughed, half sobbed. "And yes, I will come back, if you would have me! It's you, it's always been you, that I want to keep warm."

This was not the first time she saw Éomer smile. Yet the joy that broke across his features then was like dawn, and with a soft, disbelieving laugh he stood up. He lifted her with him, careful of her injured arm, and pulled her tight and close to himself. One hand he pressed against the back of her head and the second against the small of her back. Abruptly, Lothíriel became aware of six and a half feet of armour, leather and _man._

In the dark hours of the night she had at times wondered what it would be like to kiss him. It had felt forbidden yet exciting to imagine it, the taste and the feel and the intimacy, and in the morning she'd feel embarrassed to meet his eyes. It had been difficult, too, when her feelings for him had grown stronger. Now she decided it had been worth the wait.

Somehow, he was both bold and tender at the same time. The palm of his hand was hard and his beard was scratchy, but the softness and the warmth of his lips made her head spin. He was not afraid to kiss her, claiming her mouth with his own so desperately that one might think he didn't expect to be able to ever do it again. And still it was sweet, encouraging her even though she had little idea at first of how to respond. Curiously and eagerly she pressed closer. She wanted to know him, to have him, to have this precious moment always in her heart. With a trembling hand, she held on to the back of his neck.

She was lost in him. And she never wanted to go home, but stay here always, stay with _him._ Father would have to understand. This was the path she wanted.

At the end of the kiss he did not pull away. His hands still held her close to him and he pressed his forehead against hers, breathing in the same air as her. It felt sweeter than she could have imagined. Even if half the inhabitants of Meduseld had burst in then, or her father himself, she would not have broken away from him.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Lothíriel asked at length. Now Éomer lifted his head again and she saw that his eyes were bright and peaceful, reflecting all the love and tenderness she had so hoped to see in them.

"Because I have said too many goodbyes. And to admit how much I love you would be the surest way to more heartbreak", he replied seriously. He actually said it! He did love her! It was hard to wrap her mind around this wondrous fact, even now that she stood with his arms about her.

"... do you still believe that?" she inquired softly.

"I do not know. You tell me if I have reason to fear it", he said, though she now didn't think he really expected her to turn away.

"I may not be strong of body like you are, but if your heart were in my keeping, I would never let it be broken", she told him. How her voice came out sounding so even, she didn't know.

"Then it's yours indeed", he said, low and rich and smiling so that her heart might burst. He kissed her again, fiercer this time, and she welcomed it entirely. Her head and heart were full of him, almost making her feel like she was drunk on mead.

But when he again pulled back, he had a question for her.

"I didn't mean to do this so rashly, but you seem to have taken my wits, my sweet one. I can't wait anymore. Lothíriel, will you be my wife?" he asked, moving one hand against her cheek to cup it.

Now tears streamed freely down her cheeks. Before the day she had received word that her father and brothers had made it alive from the battlefield of Morannon, she had not known that there could be happiness so great it made you weep. Now she felt that exquisite joy again, thrumming inside her, spreading in waves like light and music and wonder.

"Don't you see? I've been saying yes since the moment you kissed me", she answered, let out a tearful little laugh, and brought her lips to his once more.

* * *

After that first hour of joy, it grew somehow deeper and slower, like a golden ball of light in the centre of her chest.

Éomer told her to come to the royal chambers after dinner. He'd get rid of guards and clear the way for her, and also finally wash and change. Somehow it was fitting that he would come to her and make those confessions while in his full battle-gear and the air of the journey still fresh on him.

It was what Éomer would do.

Learning that Éowyn had gone out to take care of some business at the markets and meet with a few families of Riders who had fallen in the war, Lothíriel decided she would share the news with her friend tomorrow. She did not go to the hall for the meal, but requested a plate to be brought into her room. There she wolfed it down in a completely unladylike manner. At any rate, the butterflies in her belly left her little interested in food, and she was anxious to join his company again.

The corridor leading to the King's chambers was empty, like he had promised. Her heart was racing as she approached his door. She had been in his rooms before, but never like this – never with the knowledge that he wanted her there, too.

Éomer was stoking the fire as she entered. He smiled, inviting her inside as he added some wood to the flames. Suddenly nervous, Lothíriel took a few steps and halted in the middle of the room. She didn't know where to put the hand of her good arm, and so let it fall on her side. She felt silly and young and clueless.

But then Éomer came to her. He cradled her face between his hands and kissed her, soft and sweet. His manner was so easy and natural, and his affections so sincere, that all tension left her. There was no reason to be nervous. Timidly at first she reached her hand to the back of his neck and tiptoed into the kiss. How warm he was, and how reassuring his nearness! The texture of his golden hair was a marvel to her, and so was the softness of skin on his neck, quite different than the hard swordman's hands touching her cheeks. It was a wonder. She wanted to reach and feel more, and almost did so, until she recalled her manners. They weren't even married yet, and she was already thinking of being so free and familiar with his person!

So she began to pull back, simply to restrain herself before she made a completely wanton impression on him. He let out a low growl when she did. Heat rushed in her cheeks when she realised he was _disappointed._ But even then, he let his hands fall from her face and he took a step back. Her heart was still beating frantically, though it was now for an entirely different reason.

"Sorry. Hope I didn't frighten you", he said, folding his hands behind his back as though he didn't trust them.

"You didn't. This is all very new to me, and it feels terribly good to kiss you", said Lothíriel and blushed even more deeply. "Which I probably shouldn't say out loud."

Éomer's eyes glinted.

"It feels terribly good to kiss you, too", he said warmly and planted one more against her brow. It almost made her melt against him once more, but he moved away and busied himself with the chairs by the fire. He pulled one close to the other so that they might sit side by side – and touch each other, as was revealed to her when she had taken seat and he reached for her hand. There was no hesitation now, no doubt before the touch. Gently he ran his fingertips over the back of her hand, then the knuckles, until he interlaced his fingers with hers. Lothíriel's heartbeat remained swifter than normal.

"How's your arm?" he asked her, glancing at the wrappings.

"Itchy. That's a good sign, I hear", she answered. She made a face. "At least it doesn't hurt anymore."

The look on his face grew sober. Éomer lowered his head and kissed the hand of her healing arm.

"It's hateful to think of what happened. I'm still having dreams about it, only... only you're dead when I get to you", he said quietly, and the glint in his eyes dimmed. He looked down.

An ache now grew in her chest as she watched his downcast features. It would take him a while to trust that she wasn't going to leave. So many already had. What wounds it must have left in his heart! And yet he was still ready to open it for her and take one more chance.

She would not let it be in vain.

Lothíriel brought his hand, still holding her own, to her lips.

"I am right here", she reminded him gently. "And I know I'm young and naïve and there's a lot that I've got to learn, but if... if that's good enough for you, then I promise that you won't have to be alone anymore."

He looked up at her and the sadness cleared away.

"Lothíriel, you may be those things, but you are also one of the gentlest, kindest souls I've ever met. You are caring and hopeful, and not only does Rohan need such a queen, but so do I. The calm of you calms my storm as well", he told her, still serious but again warm and close. The glimmer was back in his eyes, shining from some place deep and true. She knew then, despite all her youth and inexperience, that this was a love to endure a lifetime.

So she reached her good arm to him and hid the dampness in her eyes in his golden hair.

"I'm glad I found you", Lothíriel whispered, shaken by the wonder of joy.

"So am I", said Éomer, and then pulled her close, into his arms.

There it felt like home.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you enjoyed this new chapter! I must say it was great to write it. :)

When I thought of how he would confess his feelings to her, I had this very clear image of him racing over the fields back to Edoras, and then just storming through Meduseld in his full battle-gear, too impatient to change or wait. I suppose it's partly because I've been looking at these portraits by artists with a lady and a knight - an arrangement I very much like.

I believe there will be a couple more chapters, and obviously the side story will yet have to be finished, but the maximum length of this fic will probably be around 20 chapters.

While writing their talk in this chapter, I was listening to Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga's Shallow. I normally don't like her music very much, but something about this song just works for me extremely well, and it inspired me a great deal with the love confession scene.

The lines _"Home is the Rider..."_ are paraphrased from a short poem by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Jo -** I don't think he pushed her, but it might have looked like that to someone who wasn't close and didn't know what was happening.

 **Clodagh92 -** Glad to hear my updates are so well appreciated! :)

I do inted to write a couple more chapters with them in an established relationship, so worry not!

I did like showing her pride, too! She can be quiet and sweet, but she also has teeth. ;)

 **sai19 -** I hope you had a great birthday!

I actually already drafted that bit from Éomer's POV, and I can't wait to share it! :) Also, I hope you liked the confessions!

 **aryaputra -** I'm glad you liked it! :)

I may have an idea for a new story, we'll see how and if that develops!

 **EStrunk -** I believe there has indeed been a conversation or two between the siblings. But depending on how many more chapters there will be, it may be I won't update the side story until after this is done.

 **Galenrandir -** Thank you very much! :)

Déorwine has his weak side, and it perhaps takes over more than his better qualities, but I think it's in good part because he was not raised to duty like his brother. But he's not inherently a bad man - just someone who desperately needs guidance.

 **Jeraly -** Thanks! :)

 **Menelwen -** People really are looking forward to that bit from his POV! I do have it drafted already, and I admit I very much enjoyed writing the scene as he sees it!

Not that much drama about the confession, though - I think at this point, Éomer was so single-minded about getting to talk with her, he wouldn't let anything more come in between!

I hope you had a great birthday. :)

 **Cricklewood16 -** I don't think the thread with him is quite done yet, as Lothíriel herself feels, too. But we'll see what will happen with him!

She was really quite worried about loving him in vain, but of course she was wrong!

I'm glad to hear my updates make people feel such things! :) I try my best.

 **Catspector -** I don't think he would want to hurt her on purpose, though! But maybe I'll let him argue his own case.

I hope you liked their confessions to one another!

 **Wondereye -** I'm not sure it's his true personality. Just a really unfortunate moment that does put him in a bad light.

 **Hobbitpony1 -** Thank you!

 **frank . kilgenschmidt -** I didn't think more drama to keep them apart was needed, so here at last we have some confessions! I hope you liked it. :)

 **Anon -** Yes, they were and are both quite ready! And the story had got to a point where it didn't make sense to keep them pining anymore.

 **Doranwen -** She probably has an inkling, yes! ;)

 **dee -** Thank you! :)

 **Serni -** Yes, I rather enjoyed putting those little words there, too! ;)

 **Nibel Verius Yggdrasil -** Better late than never! Your comments are always appreciated.

I think he was so angry because he was quite hurt, but I'm not going to go more into that here. But yes, Éomer's eyes are now wide open, and so are hers! You are correct - I believe in seeing her getting hurt, he realised how devastating it would be to lose her.

I hope you like that story too, though it's one of my older works!


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The morning was almost as bright as Lothíriel's mood. She woke early from a deep, peaceful sleep, and felt more rested than in some time. All the troubled sensations were banished and in their place, she felt such calm and purpose as never before. The path before her feet was now clear and hopeful.

 _Éomer loved her._

She couldn't help but laugh, for so her heart rejoiced and wondered at the memories of last night. If not for her arm, she would have rolled around in the bed in sheer excited glee.

True, there were things they needed to figure out: whether he should write to her father and ask for her hand, or if they should wait until Éowyn and Faramir's wedding. How soon could they pledge their troth, and how long would they have to wait until their own marriage? Still, Lothíriel felt optimistic before these questions. She didn't doubt Father would give his blessing, but Gondorian custom might insist on a long betrothal. Not to mention, she couldn't yet begin to imagine the ceremony and detail that would have to go into negotiating a royal marriage.

All the same, Éomer loved her and this fact glimmered at the centre of her thoughts like her own personal sun. But as she got up and washed her face, a thought occurred to her: what to say to Éowyn. It was possible Éomer had already told her everything, but if not so, it would be revealed to the White Lady as she saw her brother and their guest in the same space at breakfast. But Lothíriel preferred the idea of telling her friend in person, and as it was still quite early, she decided to go and see Éowyn right away. Being an early riser, Éowyn was probably already awake.

So she dressed quickly instead of waiting for Hild to arrive. By now, she had learnt how to manoeuvre with her broken arm, and so was able to get ready without the maid's help. Something excited bubbled in the pit of her stomach, like she might just burst out laughing from sheer happiness.

However, when she had slipped on her boots and was about to exit, there was an earnest knock at the door.

"Come in!" Lothíriel invited the new arrival, thinking it was Hild. Instead, Éowyn entered.

"Good morning", they said at the same time, and Lothíriel let out an embarrassed little laugh. Her friend smiled.

"I was worried I might wake you, but I simply couldn't wait any longer. My brother shared some rather exciting news last night, you see", Éowyn said, her eyes bright and shining.

"He did? I wondered if he had", said Lothíriel, almost too excited to speak coherently. "Can you believe it? He proposed to me yesterday!"

"Finally! I was starting to think he would never make his move!" Éowyn exclaimed and grabbed her friend in a tight hug. For a moment, there was an abundance of squealing and hugging.

When they had mastered their emotions somewhat, Lothíriel pulled back and looked at her friend with a sheepish smile.

"I did wonder if you knew what is going on", she remarked, at which Éowyn grinned.

"Oh, I've known for months. Do you think I haven't noticed you two casting yearning glances at one another?" she asked cheerfully as Lothíriel gestured her to take a seat. Herself, she sat down on the edge of her bed. Éowyn let out a laugh, "And last night, my brother finally came to me with the news I've expected for a while now. If only you had heard the scolding I gave him! It is quite cruel to keep everyone holding their breath for so long. I don't think he heard half of my words, though. The oaf was so happy, he was almost floating."

Lothíriel blushed, taken aback but also pleased. She still had hard time wrapping her mind around the idea that she had this impact on him.

"Well, I've known what I feel for him since after the Harvest Feast. But it didn't even occur to me that he might feel the same, not until Yuletide", she said a little shyly.

Éowyn scoffed out loud, but the sound was not mocking, merely exasperated.

"You and him are the worst! I hope you learn to communicate a bit better than this once you are married. Otherwise, I don't know what the rest of us are going to do with you", she said, shaking her head. But her eyes glimmered in mirth.

"If you've been aware that long, why didn't you say anything?" she asked. With Éowyn's encouragement, Lothíriel didn't think the confessions would have taken this long to emerge.

"I thought about whether I should interfere and help things along a bit. There has been a thousand times I wanted to say something", Éowyn said with a fond smile, "but I decided I'd rather let you and him figure it out by yourselves. My brother is a stubborn fool, as you now know very well, and he doesn't like being pressed. But mind you, I did have an emergency plan in case you two didn't come around before the wedding. I would have trapped you together in some closet and kept you there until one of you had asked for the other's hand in marriage."

The idea made Lothíriel laugh out loud. She liked small spaces as little as anybody, but if the scenario included Éomer, it was fine by her.

"That would have been interesting", she commented, shaking her head. Then, casting a more serious look at her friend, she asked, "Do you think I can manage it? Being a queen?"

"I don't see any reason why not. You know Rohan and you have in you all that you need. And Éomer absolutely adores you. He didn't expect to be king, and so he will know how to help you learn. I don't think you ought to be nervous", Éowyn said confidently.

Her words encouraged Lothíriel as well. She smiled, growing more sure. She reached to touch Éowyn's hand.

"Now we will truly be sisters", she said softly.

It was then she witnessed something quite rare happening. Tears filled the clear, bright eyes of Éowyn, hardiest of women. And seeing this reaction, Lothíriel couldn't fight the tears of joy, either.

"Yes, we will", said the White Lady, her voice trembling. "And I bless the day you walked in the Houses of Healing."

* * *

The great hall was slowly filling when the two women made their way for breakfast. The sounds and the sights were familiar: the sonorous voices of Rohirrim, the smell of fresh bread and smoke from the great hearth, and morning's light peeking in through the shafts. Next to Lothíriel, Éowyn was beaming.

Éomer was there already. He lifted his eyes and his face lit up when he saw them coming. Swiftly he rose up on his feet and came to meet them at the edge of the dais. Seeing him smile so, Lothíriel quickly looked down. She didn't want to stumble over her feet like some fool while ogling at him; he was perilously handsome when he smiled.

"Good morning", he greeted them, and his tone was light and warm. He reached his hand out for Lothíriel and she took it, wrapping her fingers around his. Her heart leapt in her breast and warmth flooded her cheeks. It occurred to her that Éomer was not one for secrecy, and it was likely that by the end of the day, everyone in Meduseld knew there had been a significant change in how the King treated his Amrothian guest.

"Good morning", she uttered, still blushing as she stepped on the dais. As ever, he pulled out her chair for her and she took seat, knees shaking slightly. They almost completely gave out when she felt his lips briefly on the top of her head. There, in the full view of his entire court! What a brazen man.

It occurred to her then that marriage with him might not be at all what she'd expect. The thought didn't scare her, but it did make her a little bit nervous. She would have to interrogate Éowyn about it some time soon.

"Did you sleep well?" Éomer asked as he took his own seat. Glancing at his way, she saw him leaning forward so that he could see and talk to her past Éowyn, who sat between them. The White Lady was still grinning like she had just witnessed something priceless.

"I did, thank you", Lothíriel replied and cast a smile at him. "I'm sorry I had to leave so early last night."

Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she was embarrassed and felt heat grew anew on her cheeks. If he was brazen in his actions, so was she in her words! No proper unwed lady would make such allusions to a man, even if she has agreed to marry him!

But he seemed only pleased by her bold statement. His eyes glimmered and Lothíriel looked quickly down again in an attempt to hide how disoriented he made her feel. Éomer's affection was so new and intense, and she had never experienced anything quite like it.

"Would you like to come and take a walk with me after breakfast? It's a beautiful day outside", he suggested hopefully.

"Of course! I would love it", said Lothíriel, trying hard not to sound like an excited child. She had to wonder if he knew how easily he could ask her to do anything, and that she would find it very difficult, impossible perhaps if he continued to smile so, to try and refuse him.

"Shall I come as a chaperone?" Éowyn asked mildly.

"Not necessary, sister", Éomer said. His light tone switched into a gruff one.

"Oh, don't even dream of it, brother. After the legion Faramir and I had following us around, I am going to make sure you will know just how infuriating it is", she said, sounding like she took great amusement in this.

"Lothíriel, if your brothers are like this, I may just suggest a quick elopement", he stated in a voice that implied long sufferings. She couldn't help but laugh.

"Then you better pack your saddlebag", she said, grinning at him and Éowyn, "because I'm convinced they will be ten times worse."

Éomer groaned.

"Oh, Béma. I'm going to be brother-in-law to Amrothos", he said, mixing horror and disbelief in such comical way that both women laughed.

"Well, at least you can take comfort in the fact Dol Amroth is not very close to Rohan", Éowyn quipped.

"How should that comfort me? He might think so too, and decide to stay!" Éomer shot back, much to Lothíriel's amusement. The banter reminded her of her own brothers. She looked at these two siblings warmly and felt her heart swelling in her chest. They were now as much her family as her kin by the sea.

"Put him on stable-duty and he'll scurry back home very soon. As a kinsman, he won't be able to refuse your requests", Lothíriel put in, making them laugh.

"It appears that my queen-to-be is quite ingenious", Éomer said, beaming at her so that she blushed and looked down.

Now it was Éowyn's turn to groan.

"Oh, _Béma._ And _I_ will have to be around _you_ two for many weeks to come!" she said, casting a look toward rafters as though to appeal the Powers that be for strength and patience.

But Lothíriel looked at Éomer from the corner of her eye, and thought of how very lucky she was.

* * *

After breakfast they ventured out. Weather was quite warm, and so Lothíriel had picked a lighter cloak for their walk. Her king was arrayed in green and gold, as was his custom, and sunlight made his hair shine. Looking at him made her feel like her very heart ached from delight and love.

They took a lengthy walk down to the markets, speaking of this or that as they walked with their arms linked. He was constantly smiling and he laughed often, and each time the sound made her heart leap. How often she had seen the weary look in his eyes and the heavy-hearted expression on his features, and how dear and marvellous the change in him! This happiness was like winter passing.

If others noted it too, she couldn't say. Lothíriel was much too preoccupied with the man walking by her side. Still, she did not think it would take long before the capital was aware of the most recent developments.

At the markets, some gentle bickering took place when he offered to buy her whichever thing she gave a look at; she thwarted him consistently, as she still wasn't quite over the fact that he and Éowyn had given her jewellery from their mother. She did allow him to purchase some hot chestnuts, though, and they shared this bounty when they got back to Meduseld and sat down on the great stone steps of the Hall. Readily Éomer offered the hem of his cloak for her to sit on.

"How was your trip to the Isen?" she asked him when they had settled down and he was opening the small bundle of chestnuts. They had not cooled much; they were just hot enough now not to burn one's mouth. It was a treat quite unlike anything she had tasted in Dol Amroth.

"It was fine. Things are going better than I dared to hope... I believe there may be a chance for a more lasting peace between us and Dunlendings. Granted, there are some young hotheads who don't like the idea at all, but their elders seem tired of war. I haven't been able to find out what it was, but I think their warriors and leaders saw something at Saruman's service that disturbed them very deeply", he answered. A brief shadow passed across his features, and she had a feeling he guessed all too well what evil of Saruman may have had this impact.

But it wouldn't do to dwell on dark things, not in the beauty of this day and the joy of being together with him. She brushed her hand over his knuckles.

"Good news, then. Your hard work is paying off", she complimented him.

Éomer let out a low laugh.

"Well, it's not just my doing. I wouldn't have managed it without Gamling. I think he's the closest thing to an Eorling that they respect in Dunland", he said and shrugged.

"Still, it sounds hopeful. If things are getting more stable in Rohan, then maybe... maybe you can come visit me in Dol Amroth later this summer", she suggested softly.

He glanced at her thoughtfully.

"That would be nice indeed. And I do owe a visit to Aragorn, too. Maybe we could meet in Mundburg and travel south together", he replied, making her smile.

"I would like that", she said, already imagining the journey south by his side, and all the things she could show to him in Dol Amroth... yes, it would be wonderful.

He hemmed in agreement and for a moment, they were lost in their thoughts as they chewed the chestnuts. But eventually Éomer looked at her again.

"I was thinking of what to say to your father. Are you going to write him soon?" he asked her carefully.

"I'm not sure what would be the better option", she confessed at length. "Should I write him about your proposal and let him digest it before he travels here for the wedding? Or would it be better to wait until we can talk to him face to face?"

"Lothíriel, I will follow your lead in this matter. He's your father, after all. But do you think he'd take it better if you give him some notice before he hears some nonsensical gossip about you and me?" Éomer asked solemnly. He touched her hand and continued, "Mind you, I do not care what is said about me. But your honour and dignity I will not have tarnished by anyone."

His heartfelt words made her blush. She wasn't able to worry over what his words implied: that some malicious tongues might attempt to shame her, not when he showed her this care and consideration. But he looked at her so seriously that she couldn't entertain her air-headed daydreams.

"My father knows you, Éomer, and he has never spared his praise when speaking of you. I don't think any gossip could make him believe that you have ever treated me poorly or disrespectfully", she said, sure and firm. She took a bite of a chestnut and chewed it thoughtfully before continuing to speak, "But perhaps you are right. If some gossip did reach his ears, it might put him off. I'd rather he heard it from me."

"Then I think we should both send him letters. You to explain the situation, and I to ask formally for your hand", he suggested. Hearing his words, she felt an excited little shiver run down her spine. This was really happening.

"Very well", she agreed, surprised to hear her voice sound so even and calm. "But I must warn you. Gondorians like their betrothals long."

Éomer grimaced.

"Yes, Éowyn has made it quite clear. I swear, if she and Faramir had to wait any longer, I might just have gone and kidnapped him for her", he said in feigned suffering. Lothíriel laughed.

"Does that mean that some time this summer, I should expect you to come and throw me on the back of your horse?" she asked him in gentle humour.

His eyes flashed and she realised there was at least a part of him that would dearly like to do just that. She shivered again, but the cause was now something deeper and not so innocent. She had rationally known that he wanted her as man wants woman, but that dark, piercing look made her aware of it in a way that was not at all sensible or proper.

"Don't give me any ideas", he said ominously. "Before the time of Eorl, it wasn't uncommon for young men to try and steal his bride just like that."

The thought was so scandalous, she stared at him with wide eyes, almost squealing out loud. Yet she couldn't help but feel untowardly fascinated.

"Why did you stop?" she asked despite herself.

A wry smile touched his face.

"I suppose Eorl and his captains did not want their new allies to think we are complete savages", he said in a low voice, "Although I don't think it was easy for them to sell it to Eorlingas themselves, especially when the stealing only occurred if the bride was willing."

 _If the bride was willing..._ unbidden, the thought came: waiting and pining by the side of the sea, her saddlebags ready, and riding back to Rohan in the dead of the night as he took them by strange, secret roads where they couldn't be caught. No, but she couldn't say any of that out loud. At least, not before they were married.

"I think my father would have a heart attack", she said, mostly to stop her own racing mind from coming up with something even more outrageous. "And my brothers would probably try and burn Meduseld down."

"Yes, I imagine they would", Éomer snorted. Then his expression softened, and he brushed his hand across her cheek, "But I would give up a lot to have you by my side."

He was leaning closer, like he desperately wanted to kiss her. She could well understand the sentiment – almost forgetting they were in the full view of the courtyard. But he pulled back again and lowered his hand as well. At the same time, they both let out a deep breath.

"Well", said Lothíriel, her voice trembling, "You won't have to give up anything to have me."

He didn't smile. Something downcast appeared in his eyes when he looked at her.

"Maybe so. But you may have to, Lothíriel, for I don't know if I can be the husband you deserve. When you were injured... I hated the idea of leaving your side, and yet I had to go and partake Yule celebrations, and ride for the Isen when you were still recovering. If Aragorn is right and we'll still need to go in war with the Enemy's old allies, in future I may have to be away for months at a time. I'm afraid I can't be there for you when you need me... that the throne will always be between us in one way or other", he said, quiet and grave.

Something heavy settled in the pit of her stomach. No, she hadn't expected that a life with him would always be sunshine and roses. Was that what he thought? Then she realised the meaning behind his words. He was worried she believed him to be some sort of a fairy tale prince, and that he couldn't deliver her expectations... that her love would die when her dreams shattered in reality.

Now it was her turn to reach her hand to him and brush his bearded cheek. How warm he was even in the chilly air of passing winter!

"I don't expect to be always the centre of your world, Éomer", she said gently as she rested her hand against his cheek. "Nobody could bear such a thing. But if I can be that gleaming centre every once in a while, then... well, I think you'll be exactly the kind of husband I _want."_

Éomer looked at her with bright eyes. He turned his head slightly and kissed the palm of her hand. Then he took it in his own and pressed his lips against her knuckles. He still held her hand when he spoke.

"Don't think you're never not in my thoughts, even if I am away from you", he said and pressed her fingers tightly, as if to make sure she would remember these words.

The hot chestnuts he had bought were now finished and the wind had taken a chill turn. Lothíriel shivered, which he noted, of course.

"Shall we get back inside? I don't want you to get cold", he said, at which she nodded and released the hem of his cloak from under herself. Éomer rose and then gently pulled her up as well.

Together they headed into the Golden Hall.

* * *

The following day, Lothíriel received an invitation she had not expected.

She was with Éowyn at the time, teaching her some of the most common Gondorian court dances. Some would doubtless take place at the wedding and Éowyn wanted to be ready for it.

It was not ideal without the proper music, but Lothíriel didn't presume Éomer's court musicians would know southern tunes. But like her brother, Éowyn was a fairly good dancer and got a hang of it soon enough. There was a noise of laughter as they went through the steps, cheerful banter, and some members of the household occasionally stopped by to watch them. And Éowyn felt even more of a sister to her than before.

This glad and light moment was interrupted by the arrival of one Doorward. He bowed his head as he approached the two women, who halted in the middle of one pair dance.

"Lady Lothíriel", he greeted her solemnly, and perhaps with more reverence than until now, "I am sorry to disturb you, but this message was asked to deliver to you presently."

As he spoke the words, he offered a scroll to her. Surprised, Lothíriel took it and the Doorward bowed once more before taking his leave.

She cast a glance at Éowyn, who looked as curious as she felt. Quickly she rolled the scroll open. The contents surprised her so that at first, she couldn't get a word out of her mouth. But her friend was too anxious to just let her stand boggling.

"What is it?" she wanted to know.

"It's from Déorwine", Lothíriel uttered and looked up at Éowyn. "He wants to meet me."

The eyes of the White Lady flashed dangerously.

"The nerve! How dares he even think of you? Tell him he can go and stick his head -" Éowyn barked, and would probably have made a rather crude suggestion about where Lord Déorwine could put himself, but Lothíriel reached for the arm of her friend to interrupt her.

"Stop", she said quickly, leaving Éowyn hanging in the middle of her sentence. "I will agree to meet him."

"Lothíriel, you can't be serious! You got hurt because of him!" Éowyn said fiercely. Her eyes blazed in a way that promised nothing good for the Lord of Dunharrow.

"I know it seems strange to you. But if he wants to talk to me... well, I must give him the benefit of doubt and assume he wants to apologise. I can't leave things as they are. The memory of him has bothered me enough already, and if there's a chance of making peace, then I wish to take it", Lothíriel tried to explain. The thought of Déorwine had remained a stone on her heart and this seemed like a perfectly good chance to try and get rid of it. And she was not angry with him. What purpose would it serve?

Éowyn eyed her like she still didn't quite believe her.

"What if he means to cause you more grief?" she asked doubtfully.

"I don't think so", Lothíriel replied, smiling faintly. "But if he does, I'm sure he will be dealt with."

"Oh, he will be", her friend muttered grimly. "I will deal with him in such a way he shall never forget."

* * *

Although Éowyn had given up the attempt of trying to stop her, she still insisted on coming along.

"I'm not going to let you be alone with him again, and that's final", she said briskly, and Lothíriel agreed, though it was not only because Éowyn would not be gainsaid. She also wanted a friend close by if things did go wrong.

So they made their way outside, and then headed for Déorwine's cousin's home. As he usually did while in Edoras, he was staying with her for the time being. He had also asked to meet Lothíriel there. Éowyn didn't say much as they walked, but at times her discontent was almost palpable. Yet whenever people stopped by to greet her, she was all sunshine and smiles.

They reached at last their destination, and Lothíriel saw Déorwine sitting on the front of his cousin's home. He saw her too, and he jumped up as though a bolt of lightning had hit him. Then, after hesitating for a moment, he began to approach the two women.

He looked as though he had been sick lately. His colour was wan and she thought he had lost some weight. There was a faint stubble on his cheeks, which had been cleanly shaven in times before. And his eyes were weary, as though he had travelled across half the known world to get here.

No, this was not a man who meant to gloat or make more grief.

Déorwine's expression became wary when he came near them. No wonder: Éowyn stood tall, with her arms crossed on her chest, and she was glaring at him in a most disconcerting way. But Lothíriel touched her shoulder in a consoling gesture and took a step ahead.

"My lady", he spoke at last and bowed low. "I asked you to come here so that I might talk to you, if you would allow it. I... I believe I owe you an apology and an explanation. I would have come meet you in Meduseld, but it's no secret in Edoras that the King is not pleased with me, and I doubt it would be a good idea to show my face near his Hall."

Lothíriel glanced at Éowyn first to see her reaction. While the White Lady's expression was stony for the most part, she did raise one eyebrow as though to confirm it would be very foolish indeed to come anywhere close to Meduseld.

Lothíriel looked back at the man and cleared her throat.

"Very well", she said as steadily as she could. Éowyn still said nothing and so Lothíriel cast her a tentative smile.

"You needn't worry", she reassured her friend.

"I will stay nearby", Éowyn simply retorted. It was both a promise and a warning.

Déorwine shuddered visibly.

But Lothíriel took a deep breath, nodded at him, and in silent agreement they began to walk.

"Well, what do you have to say to me?" she asked at last when they had moderate privacy. Éowyn followed them like an ominous storm-cloud.

Glancing at the man next to her, she thought he looked even more pale than before. In no small amount of wonder, she realised it was because he was _scared._ Déorwine was _scared_ of _her._ The thought was absurd, and yet she saw it clear in the way he looked at her.

He directed his stare momentarily on the ground and breathed deeply, as though a man preparing himself to what he fears is an insurmountable task. Lothíriel could think of a hundred ways to help him a little bit, but she did not. He had done wrong and even if she wanted to put an end to this matter, she was not going to allow him get off easily.

"Elbereth, I don't even know where to begin", he groaned at last, still staring down.

"I would suggest an apology", she said, pleasant enough but with a steely undercurrent.

Bright spots appeared on his cheeks.

"I know I should have come to apologise after I was released. But I couldn't face you. For one, the King told me to stay away from you, and I had got on his bad side enough as it was. But it's not just that. Truth is... I felt guilty and ashamed. You fell because of me", he said, sounding perfectly miserable. Lothíriel's heart grew softer at hearing the guilt in his voice, but she said nothing. She wasn't surprised Éomer had ordered Déorwine to keep his distance, although she rather hoped he hadn't.

Déorwine coughed and looked up momentarily. It was clear he was in a great deal of emotional distress, yet he kept braving through it – even if he didn't seem to realise yet she was not angry with him anymore.

"My lady, I was impressed with you the moment we met. Few women in this land can compete with your grace and dignity. I knew a lady like you would not come my way again. With such a companion, I thought it would be easier to bear the duties that my brother left to me. For a time, I even felt like there was some hope in winning at least your favour, if not your heart", he went on speaking. For all purposes, Déorwine had been underlining how little he identified with his own people. And yet in this moment, he showed all the raw honesty of Rohirrim, and in his voice she heard all his loneliness and struggle and the constant fear that he would never be as good as his late brother.

He was not yet done, though.

"But then the King entered the picture, and I watched you dance with him at the Yule feast. The moment he looked your way, you forgot about me. You saw nothing and no one but him. I was jealous and insecure and disappointed, thinking of all the ways I can't compete with him. Why wouldn't you choose a handsome king and a renowned warrior over some small lord you had never even heard of before? So, like any jealous fool has ever done, I tried to soothe my hurt pride with anger, convincing myself that you pursued him only because of his crown", Déorwine said, speaking slowly at times and then more quickly again. His words invoked her pity and the last remnants of resentment left her. And so her heart grew lighter.

He let out a deep, heavy sigh. The man looked utterly defeated.

"And thanks to me, you got hurt. I have never hated myself more. I saw how the King ran to you as you lay on the ground, and I knew then he loved you. And the way you defended him only moments before you fell... well, it was quite clear I was wrong to ever doubt you. For this, and for your accident, I am truly sorry", he finished at last and fell silent.

They had now stopped walking. Lothíriel was vaguely aware of the road and houses around them, and people walking by. But her main focus was on Déorwine. Almost she felt guilt for not having it in her power to deliver him from all his troubles.

"I accept your apology", she said at last after her long silence. "And I'm glad you have spoken so sincerely to me. For my part, I'm sorry for your struggles, and that I cannot help you to overcome them. But I don't think you are destined to fail. You don't have to be like your brother, and yet being unlike him doesn't mean you can't equal him. You have your own strengths and qualities. If you keep looking and yearning for something that is far away and may never have existed in the way you imagine it, then you are not going to grow, either. But if you try to see the good that's around you, then perhaps you begin to perceive things in a different light... and _dearer_ light."

He did not say anything at first, but regarded her quietly, his head tilted. His look was not so miserable; rather, thoughtfulness had come to his eyes and she could see his shoulders relaxing a little bit.

"Your words are gracious and kind, my lady", he said at last and bowed low before her. "So speaks a true queen."

Lothíriel was taken aback by his statement and felt heat creeping up her neck. Her astonishment only grew when he carefully picked up her hand and pressed a quick kiss on her knuckles.

When he let go of her hand, he uttered the words: "The King is a lucky man. I only hope he knows what he's got."

* * *

It wasn't until later in the evening that Lothíriel spoke to Éomer of her meeting with Déorwine. She didn't want to upset him, as she suspected he still held a grudge against the poor young man, but she did hope it would help him to forget the sorry affair.

They were in his rooms after the dinner. Éowyn was present to make it appropriate, but she was fully engrossed in Faramir's latest letter, and so Lothíriel was left quite alone with Éomer.

They sat side by side again and talked in soft voices of the events of the day. He told her of his meetings and relayed some news that had come from Gondor, and she described her and Éowyn's dancing lessons. A letter from Amrothos had come in the same delivery as Faramir's; as ever, her brother's message was a source of amusing anecdotes.

But when Éomer seemed to be in a receptive mood, Lothíriel heartened herself to share her most pressing bit of news. So, in a soft and slow voice, she told him of what had happened between her and Déorwine today.

As soon as she mentioned the young lord's name, Éomer's expression became dark. Yet to his credit, he did listen to her to the end of her story.

When she finished it, he let out a heavy sigh.

"I do not like that you went to see him alone", he said at last, staring at the fire rather than looking at her.

"But I was not alone. Éowyn followed us whole time. And… I don't think he'd be able to get a single word out with you around. It seemed to be hard enough on him as it was", she told him in earnest.

He frowned.

"Lothíriel… I don't know what to tell you. Because of him you came to harm. Not only that: you could have died. And I can't forget that. The thought of him still fills me with anger", he said gravely.

Gently she reached for his hand.

"I know. But you can't keep on punishing him forever. His own guilt already does that, Éomer. If you had just seen him today…" she trailed off and shook her head. Then she looked straight at him again and continued, "I don't blame Déorwine. To be honest, I feel sorry for him."

"How can you? What do you think would have happened if you took even worse injury or lost your life? How could I ever explain it to your father and Aragorn?" Éomer asked, and his tone was fierce.

"It was an accident, Éomer. He didn't mean it to happen. He shouldn't be treated as a criminal for the rest of his life for what could have happened. I do not ask you to become his best friend, just acknowledge that he made a mistake and is deeply regretting it", Lothíriel answered, gentle and patient where he was bristling.

His expression softened a little bit and he cradled her fingers in his hand.

"For your sake, I will tolerate him. But it will be long before he has my favour", he said at last, and she smiled. That he had abated this much was no small thing, knowing how stubborn he could be.

"Thank you, love. It means a lot to me", she said and bent forward to kiss his cheek. He made a sound at the back of his throat that somehow managed to be both gruff and fond at the same time.

When she pulled back, Lothíriel noted, "You know, you and him have more in common than you realise. He too inherited a duty he never thought to have, and it has tormented him a good deal."

Éomer grimaced.

"Are you saying I'm like him?" he asked sharply, as could be expected. But she brushed his hand gently.

"Of course not. I'm just suggesting you and him might understand one another better than you think", she replied mildly. He still seethed for a little bit, but gradually his irritable mood vanished. Maybe it had something to do with how she kept running her fingers over his hand and arm.

"Woman, what are you doing to me? I didn't think I would be so easily persuaded", he muttered at length, resigned and little bit shocked.

Lothíriel laughed.

"You better get used to it", she said brightly and leant in for a kiss.

Éowyn's voice rose, but did not cause them to interrupt.

"Béma, you two really are the _worst."_

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you liked this chapter!

Here I wanted to do three things: show Éowyn's reaction, let our lovebrids spend a little time together, and resolve the issue of Déorwine. The whole affair has been difficult and painful for him, and he feels horribly guilty about her getting hurt, which is hopefully revealed in his words. But I think now both him and Lothíriel have made peace with what happened.

As for her and Éomer, I absolutely enjoy writing her getting all flustered over his shows of affection! ;)

Thank you for reading and reviewing! Let me know what you think!

* * *

 **darkone7142 -** Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. :)

 **frank . kilgenschmidt -** Happy to hear it! :)

I rather liked that little tidbit, too. Éomer strikes me as a type of person who doesn't let something like that hinder him when he has task to achieve.

I hope you will like the remaining chapters, too!

 **Guest -** Thank you! I can't wait to get to share his POV, too! :)

 **Tibblets -** Glad to hear it! :)

 **Guest -** Yes, I think that course of action is most true to him. :) As for now, they are going to write her father, but we'll see how he's going to react!

I'm sure Erkenbrand is equally sorry about what happened, but Éowyn was alluding more to the fact that Lothíriel was there as her and Éomer's guest, and that she feels certain level of responsibility over her well-being.

 **Rho67 -** :o I'm flattered to hear the text bears so many re-reads! And thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you continue to enjoy my stories!

 **Serni -** :)

 **aryaputra -** All the same, I'm glad you have enjoyed the story, even if there aren't many chapters left!

 **blasttyrant -** Hopefully, the side story will shed some light on why he acted so impatiently! And I hope you liked Éowyn's reaction. :)

 **Doranwen -** Happy to hear you liked it! :)

 **Cricklewood16 -** Yes, it was exactly what he would do! It's great to write them finally knowing the truth about one another's feelings.

As for me, I'm really quite flattered to hear people take that much time to read my chapters!

 **Jo -** Indeed, that's what he's like! And I'm glad the chapter made you so happy! :)

 **Tobiramamara -** Thank you! Great to know it made you feel so! :)

 **Guest -** Yes, it's delightful to be here now and see how they work out as a couple. :) I hope you liked how Éowyn took it all!

 **Wondereye -** Thanks!

 **LothiVs -** Glad you liked it! :)

 **Menelwen -** I hope to show why and how he was in this rush to get to her when I get to the side story. I think it will rather reveal his motives in a way this story doesn't. But for the time being, let's just say he was really impatient!

It will be some time indeed before they can marry, but how long that will be remains to be seen!

 **Guest -** Thank you! They are lovely to write, too. :)

 **Anon -** Glad to hear you think so! And I rather enjoyed exploring the way she balances between those emotions.

I also look forward to showing Imrahil's reaction!

 **poser16 -** Hopefully we'll get to see them soon! But I do hope I liked Éowyn's reaction. :)

 **A -** :)


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Time now advanced surely towards spring and the green, mellow days of April. Laden wagons began to arrive in Edoras, bringing supplies for the great event ahead. Much still needed to be prepared. There would be banquets in Meduseld, fairs in the city, and games in the honour of the bridal couple. All manner of merchants and entertainers would soon be arriving to provide for both Rohirric and Gondorian guests.

Éowyn was in the centre of the whirlwind. It seemed that with one hand she was writing instructions, the other she used to give directions to servants on cleaning duty, and all this was done while she discussed the details of her dowry with her brother. Lothíriel helped where she could, though she wondered how her friend was able to retain her clear head at this time. Imagining it for herself, being parted from Éomer for so long, and knowing they would soon be reunited and married, she was certain she would be a menace on the patience of her family.

That would soon be her lot, as it now seemed. And how long her parting from Éomer would be yet remained unknown. They had written their letters to her father, but it would be weeks before it was reasonable to expect to get his answer. Lothíriel did not know if he would even respond right away, or rather wait until he arrived himself in Edoras.

All the same, now she was happy and hopeful, and whenever he was at home, Éomer would spare at least few moments for her each day. And there was no question of whether dinners would be had together with Éowyn. Unless he still had some matters of the realm to attend to, he would ask the two women to stay for a while after the meal. Those were dear, golden nights that she long remembered fondly.

Lothíriel couldn't say if the whole capital now knew the state of matters, but at least her nearest friends she had told of her and Éomer's intentions, much to their delight. Hild was gleeful, while Lady Scýne smiled knowingly, like she had foreseen this long ago. All the same, they were often left with the chaperoning duty, considering Éowyn was usually much too busy.

So they were present on that day when a week and a half had passed since Éomer had returned from the Isen. They accompanied her to the training grounds, where he had asked to meet her after a session with his Riders.

She heard the sounds of training swords and shields clashing from afar. The master at arms gave an occasional shout to direct the warriors, who threw friendly mocks at one another as they tried their strength and skill.

At the moment, Éomer was engaged with three of his Riders, Éothain being one of them, who came at him at different sides. They weren't throwing blows fiercely anymore; rather, it looked more like some kind of play-fighting. Most of the Riders were fighting on foot, but one pair battled horseback, testing different techniques and angles. Not that she was any competent judge, but she thought their fighting implied skill and savage grace, and it was not at all so disorderly as some said in Gondor.

Still focused in his three opponents, Éomer did not at first notice the arrival of his bride-to-be. They stood back and watched the warriors, shifting between stances, lifting and lowering their blades, and occasionally pushing their shields against one another. But it was not long until the King's captain noticed their spectators, and with a smile he gave a sign to the other two to cease their attacks. Éomer turned like he meant to order them to continue, but then he saw who had arrived.

His face lit up with a bright smile and he headed straight to the three women. He wore only his chain-mail and the practise sword was plain and crude. The shield he carried was not painted or decorated, like the ones Rohirrim used in battle. He had tied back his hair, but some strands had come loose and glued against skin from sweat. He looked so natural in this environment, as if a part of him would always belong here more than in Meduseld.

"Having fun?" asked Lothíriel and offered him a water-skin, which she had brought with her. Éomer lowered the sword and shield. Lady Scýne remained near, but Hild went over to talk with her brother Éothain.

As he reached to the water-skin, he also kissed her hand.

"If getting battered by Éothain can be called so", he chuckled before taking a deep drink from the water-skin.

"Is my dear husband tormenting you again?" asked Lady Scýne pleasantly, her eyes twinkling.

"He is, and you don't seem very eager to do anything about it", Éomer quipped as he poured some water over his head.

"Are you trying to catch a cold? Weather isn't that warm", Lothíriel put in critically. She tried to grab the water-skin, but he was quick to hide it behind his back.

"Ah, but you have such a defender now, that I'm sure whatever bruises Éothain gives you will be swiftly forgotten", said Lady Scýne in warm humour.

He grumbled and tossed the water-skin to one of his men nearby. But Lothíriel lifted the hem of her cloak to dry his head a little bit. She had to tiptoe in order to succeed.

"I wouldn't advise getting that close. I stink", he warned her. She just smiled at him, though, and leant towards him. She inhaled deeply.

He did smell. But not bad or unpleasant, not to her anyway. There was sweat, rust, wind. Beneath it all, she detected something musky and male. It was an earthy, inviting smell and it made her shiver. Abruptly she realised she was really too close to him.

Lothíriel took a step back and met his eyes. He stared at her keenly and in his eyes, there was a low burning light. Her mouth ran dry and quickly she looked down.

"You better get used to stinking man, my lady", Lady Scýne retorted. "I don't know how they do it, but sometimes my husband and our esteemed king will appear like they took a roll in a pig-pen. You'd think marriage would teach them something about cleanliness, but at this point, I just think some men are born dirty."

Éomer bristled.

"Shut it, Scýne", he growled and cast a glare at her, but the woman smiled winningly at him. Even Lothíriel could tell the words had a double meaning and she felt heat rise up her neck. She was starting to suspect that while Éothain's wife would never let the foreign lady's honour be compromised while she was watching, it wouldn't prevent her from making a few saucy remarks.

Mostly to get something safer to talk about, Lothíriel directed her eyes at the training shield he had been using.

"Are your shields very heavy? I've always wondered what it feels like to handle", she said, maintaining a proper conversational tone, although she too now felt hot enough not to mind a splash of water over her head.

"Do you want to try?" he asked and readily lifted it for her. Inside, there was a leather strap and a handle. One could attach it to one's arm, or just hold it in hand and discard it once the wood was damaged beyond being of any use. The practice shields didn't look like much, but the real ones taken to battle were quite beautiful. She had admired them back in Minas Tirith when she had watched Rohirrim ride out. The sun was a common device, but so were horses, and also the intricate knotworks that were endlessly repeated and varied in their art and handicraft.

Her arm nearly dropped from the weight of the shield, though Éomer still held his hands on its lower edges, ready catch it.

"Question answered", she said, testing what it would feel like to lift the shield. She couldn't imagine being able to hold it up while using a sword and taking swing after swing from an enemy. "It's much heavier than it looks."

She didn't ask how he, or any Rohirrim, were able to handle it. They were a famously sturdy people, and Éomer was not an exception to the rule.

"Aye. Don't ever think shields take no practice", said Éomer with a wry smile as he supported the shield a little bit for her. No doubt he was worrying over her other arm, though it was now almost healed.

"Still", she said as she eased the shield back into his hands. "I've seen the amount of leather and metal you carry on yourself. That's not even counting your sword and spear and the shield. How do you manage it all without keeling over?"

"Well, it helps I've been doing this since I was a lad", he replied. Seeing Scýne was opening her mouth, a mischievous glint in her eyes, he lifted his hand and glared at her, "Not another word."

"As you wish, Sire", she said in feigned reverence and curtsied. But when he was handing off the shield to his esquire, she whispered to Lothíriel: "You'll get some perspective on your wedding night."

Lothíriel almost choked on her own spit. Éomer was quick to slap her back and growl at his captain's wife.

"Scýne! What did I just tell you?" he groaned, linking his arm with Lothíriel's. She was not quite recovered yet, though.

"Whatever do you mean?" said the red-haired woman innocently.

He replied in quick Rohirric, almost too fast for Lothíriel to follow, but she did get the gist of it: the next person to try and scandalise her would be sent straight to the Wold. Then he pushed Lothíriel's back gently with his hand, and she let him lead her away.

"Is it always like this?" she whispered to him as they walked.

Éomer scoffed under his breath.

"It's worse, actually", he muttered. "Rohirrim love to tease the newly betrothed with the inch of their life. Though in Scýne and Éothain's case, I'm sure it's partially about getting revenge. They were mercilessly tormented when they were to be married, and I'm afraid I too made a few suggestive remarks at the time."

She felt him shudder, and abruptly realised he was concerned that these bold jokes might scare her away. So she squeezed his arm in reassurance.

"I'm marrying you, not your people. And as much as I may now feel embarrassment over their joking, it may be better than an absolute silence. I think it shows they accept me", she said, firmly at first, and then more thoughtful.

He considered it for a minute and then nodded.

"Aye. You are probably right. Perhaps I overreact", he admitted. Then suddenly he halted, there in the middle of road leading to Meduseld. Éomer looked at her seriously. "But I only wish that you feel safe and happy."

Forgetting they were not alone, Lothíriel reached to rest her hand on his warm, bearded cheek. Gently she said to him: "But you do make me feel safe and happy. What do you fear, dear heart? Do you expect me to suddenly change my mind? I may be young and perhaps I'm also naive, but I have not spent all my time here blind and deaf. I choose you, and I do it eyes wide open."

His features became impossibly gentle and earnest, and he cradled her face between his callused hands. The world knew him as a fierce warrior and bold leader, but she wondered if anyone guessed how very soft he could be.

"I'm not used to good things happening to me", he said quietly. "And to be completely honest, I don't think it makes sense to anybody that someone as sweet and lovely as you are would choose me of all people. But never think it is you that I doubt. It is simply this: I won't be at peace until our wedding day comes and you are mine to keep."

"Then may that day come soon", Lothíriel whispered to him.

And though she felt the very air between them grow tense and unbearable, he did not kiss her, not in the way she wanted him to, at any rate. He pressed his lips on her brow, and rested his own head there for an all too short a moment.

Éomer seemed to recall then they were not alone, and he pulled back once more. He cleared his throat and offered her his arm.

"Well, elopement is always an option", he said, perhaps to turn both their thoughts into lighter paths.

"Don't tempt me", she said as she took his arm, and with their gentle banter, they continued their way.

* * *

Something changed between her and Éomer in those days. At first, she couldn't point her finger at what that something was, but she felt it all the same.

It was not a change for worse by any means. If anything, she felt closer to him, like parts of them were already intertwined. The way she could talk to him, open and sincere, and yet the way he let her see himself, were things she treasured. And now she could understand why marriage was spoken of as a bond.

But that was not the full extent of it. She knew it deep down in her bones every time he looked at her.

A month after the Yuletide, Marshal Elfhelm rode from Aldburg with his wife and daughter. The girl was a year younger than Lothíriel and she was hoping to marry a young Rider of the King's Guard. She and her parents had come here to meet the lad and see if the two were suitable for one another. Lothíriel considered this with some interest, though she knew many Rohirrim married young, and Éomer and Éowyn were exceptions because of their royal blood. But the White Lady also noted that after the war, a lot of young people were getting married and starting families. The near ruin of the entire Middle-earth had inspired some very bold moves.

All the same, Marshal Elfhelm and his family came to stay as guests of the King and so on the night of their arrival, Meduseld was unusually busy and full of people. Instead of spending the evening in the King's rooms, there was a company in the hall after the dinner. Many of the Marshal's men were known to Éomer as a former Lord of Aldburg, and Elfhelm himself was close friend to the King.

The Marshal's daughter was a bright young thing, but Lothíriel's interest was rather given to the girl's mother. Lady Gytha was her name and she had been a famous shieldmaiden in her day. She was nearly as tall as some men, and still looked strong enough to do battle. She had sombre features, but at times a smile lit up her face, and her laugh was low and melodious. Lady Gytha was one of the two chiefs Théoden King had left in charge when he had ridden to the war in Gondor. Though the woman had no sword with her, Lothíriel quickly saw that she carried herself like a warrior would.

Lady Gytha was not the first shieldmaiden she met, and Éowyn had abundantly told her of the women of Rohan who rode to war, but it was still quite fascinating to talk with the lady. She spoke in a pleasant voice, and her Westron was heavily accented. But when she heard Lothíriel spoke some Rohirric and understood even more, they switched to Rohan's native tongue. But while she at times appeared focused in the conversation, often her eyes glanced at her daughter, who sat with her head close to her groom-to-be.

Evidently, Lady Gytha's eyes took in more than just her offspring, though. It was not long that she eyed Lothíriel in a thoughtful manner and noted, "So, what is the story with you and the King? He keeps staring at you like he's never seen a lady before."

Embarrassed, Lothíriel lowered her head, but she couldn't resist the temptation of discreetly glancing his way. It was as Gytha said: Éomer's was looking at her from one of the tables, where he sat with Elfhelm and several other Riders. His expression was thoughtful but his eyes had that slow burning light that she was seeing more often in them these days.

She coughed to clear her throat – and to come up with an answer. But knowing her and Éomer's relationship was no secret at this point, she decided not to beat around the bush.

"He has asked me to marry him", Lothíriel stated and smiled shyly. It still felt bewildering to say aloud.

Lady Gytha raised one eyebrow, but did not seem very surprised.

"He has? Well, in that case Elfhelm was not talking nonsense when he was saying that the King has finally met someone", she commented and smiled slightly. Lothíriel relaxed a little bit. It did not seem like this woman considered her a very unsuitable bride for the King of Rohan. She didn't think Lady Gytha would hide her true feelings in the matter.

"You thought so? My brother will love it! I can't wait to tell him he has established himself such a reputation that people actively doubt whether or not he has actually found a woman who will have him!" Éowyn put in. Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she spoke, and her words made the company of ladies around them laugh. Even Lothíriel couldn't help her embarrassed titter.

"Nevertheless, it is good news, for the Mark and for his friends", said Lady Gytha and nodded at Lothíriel.

"Indeed", she said, absent-minded as she glanced at Éomer once again. He had turned his face away a little bit, like he was listening to something that was being said to him, but she could tell he was impatient and unfocused. She swallowed hard.

"He reminds me of his father more than he ever did before. I always wondered how could a man such as Éomund have such a stern son. But perhaps we are what times make us, and now spring is coming", said one woman who was seated next to Lady Gytha. A kinswoman of Marshal Elfhelm and married to one of the King's advisers, she was a seasoned courtier in Edoras and recalled the long years of King Théoden's rule.

 _Spring is coming._ Yes, it was true in more than one regard.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, and there was a voice: "May I join you, ladies?"

Lothíriel almost jumped on her seat. When had Éomer made his way here? Last she had looked his way, he had been firmly seated. But around herself, she now saw a number of grinning faces. Éowyn, until now seated next to her Gondorian friend, was quick to make some space.

"Of course!" Lothíriel managed in a thin voice, and around her, others were quick to welcome him. Before she could collect herself and regain her composure, Éomer had already sat down next to her.

She took a shaky breath. He was a large, warm presence right beside her, and it would take only a small movement to press herself into his side. But that would be too much, even here.

"Gytha, it's good to see you. How are you old warhorse?" he spoke to the shieldmaiden. Lothíriel wasn't surprised they knew each other.

"Busy. It's been mad in Aldburg since the war ended, but I think things are starting to look a little calmer", Lady Gytha said and smiled slightly.

"I am glad to hear it", Éomer said, and then glanced at Lothíriel. "Gytha and I know each other from way back. She's the best horseback archer in the Mark and she used to train young Riders here in Edoras when I was younger."

"Well", Lady Gytha said, smiling wryly, "I don't know about being the best archer, but I've been known to shoot a few arrows in my time."

Éomer let out a low laugh and then glanced at where Lady Gytha's daughter was still deep in conversation with her groom-to-be.

"Do you think he will do?" he asked her.

"He's a good lad", answered the Marshal's wife, "Young, perhaps, but he'll grow up. They all do. Even you did."

He snorted softly.

"I should hope so", Éomer said wryly.

"Men always take their time", Lady Gytha said. She was now speaking straight at Lothíriel, and her smile grew wider as she added, "But I think with this one, you needn't worry."

"I know", Lothíriel said softly and looked down. She saw his hand there, lying on his thigh, and she reached silently for it. The warmth of him was reassuring as ever. Éomer turned his hand and intertwined his fingers with hers, squeezing them momentarily.

"Don't tease her. She knows what she's got", he said to Lady Gytha, which statement induced some _"oohs"_ and _"aahs"_ among the company around them. Eyes of the ladies seated around flitted between them in curiosity.

"Indeed I do. He may be obstinate but he's mine", Lothíriel stated, cheeks burning, but it appeared her declaration was well appreciated. Lips pressed against her temple, so soft compared to the scratch of his beard. Momentarily she closed her eyes and breathed deep.

Thankfully, this seemed to satisfy the general curiosity. Éomer and Lady Gytha now proceeded to talk about Aldburg, and at times, he turned to Lothíriel to explain this or that thing. But while he spoke, he ran his hand slowly up and down her back; at times, it was just his fingertips tracing her spine. She wasn't sure if he noticed that every now and then she hardly heard his words, thanks to the overwhelming sensation of his fingers pressing against her back.

It was outrageous and irresistible. Lothíriel tried to keep her breathing even and wondered if she should tell him to stop. But then he might think she didn't like it, and that would be unfortunate.

What she did do was mostly spontaneous, though it would be a lie to say a part of her didn't want it. She put her hand on his thigh, just above the knee. At once, she felt his hand freeze where it was below her shoulder blades. He sat very still, and so did she. Both of them simply waited what the other would do next.

Then Éomer moved his hand again, slowly sliding it down, until he settled it on the curve of her hip. Her breath almost hitched in her throat and instinctively she squeezed his thigh. That neither of them jumped up right then was a wonder.

It was Éowyn's voice that finally interrupted this increasingly charged moment. Lothíriel had been so distracted, she had hardly recalled they were not alone.

"Lothíriel, would you like to come and catch some fresh air? It's a bit hot in the hall", Éowyn said, mild and pleasant.

Her knees were shaky, but she did get up and mumble something in the affirmative. Éomer's hand fell away from her hip, both to her relief and disappointment. Quickly she touched his shoulder and then Éowyn linked their arms. The White Lady steered them towards the twin doors of the Hall.

"Thank you. I'm not sure what got into me", Lothíriel said, still a bit unsteady.

Éowyn made a low sound at the back of her throat. It was hard to say whether it was a scoff or a laugh.

"My pleasure. To be honest, I wasn't certain which one of you was going to jump the other first", she said wryly.

They stepped into the cool air of evening. It really was very refreshing after _his_ heady proximity. Lothíriel closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Her head cleared, and when it did, a question rose to her mind.

"Éowyn, am I a very bad woman?" she asked her friend in some concern. She knew what the answer would be, were she speaking with a Gondorian lady. But maybe Éowyn would not be so severe.

"Of course not. Being young and in love hardly makes anyone bad. Don't think I never had to temper myself around Faramir", she replied evenly as they halted to stand on the great platform that overlooked the capital of Rohan. Éowyn continued, "But as impatient you get, try not to forget yourself. My brother would never cause you grief on purpose, but he's never been so smitten by anybody as you, and if there ever was a fool in love, it is him."

"So you would advise caution", Lothíriel concluded. She worried her lower lip between her teeth. No, caution would not be easy, not if he put his hand on her. The man was too enticing for the good of her self-control.

"Yes, I would. Both for your own sake, and for your father's. Not that I expect him to be against this union, but it's better to be on his good side until your wedding is closer", her friend said softly.

"Is it strange that I envy you? Not having to worry about what anybody thinks?" Lothíriel asked and glanced at Éowyn.

"It's not strange at all. I know my position is in many ways easier, and what happened during the war probably plays a part in my personal freedom of action. But Lothíriel, I would give anything to have a father alive to pay heed to my antics and worry about Faramir's conduct. As frustrating his position may seem to you in coming months, remember it is only because he loves you and wants you to be safe", Éowyn said and a sliver of sadness now echoed in her voice.

Lothíriel squeezed her friend's arm gently.

"I think your father would be very proud of you", she said. _All three of them_ , she thought to herself, but did not say it aloud. But she had a feeling Éowyn would sense it, anyway.

"I hope so", said the White Lady in a voice that was scarcely more than a whisper. Then she let out a sigh and shot a brisk glance at her, "I am certain that you and my brother will have a very happy marriage. You are well suited for one another, I think. But do not rush into it, especially at the expense of your other relationships."

"I will remember that", said the younger of the two women, now entirely at command of herself again. She smiled at her friend, "Shall we get back inside? I think my head is quite clear again."

"Aye, let's do that", Éowyn replied, smiling as well.

Side by side, they returned to the Hall.

* * *

Lothíriel did not realise it right away, but the next morning she considered perhaps somewhat similar notions had occurred to Éomer while she had been taking her walk with Éowyn. At least, this thought grew in her mind during breakfast, when she saw the look in his eyes and noticed that he was more quiet than normal.

Still, he was not one to keep secrets, and as soon as breakfast was finished, he stood up and came to her side.

"May I speak with you alone, dear one?" he asked her as he offered her his hand. She took it and got up on her feet as well.

"Of course you may", she replied and smiled brightly. Even with moments as heady and thrilling as there had been last night, he didn't have trouble in conducting himself exactly like her father would like.

But before they could move on, she gestured to Lady Scýne and Lady Gytha, whom she was intending to join this morning, and they waved back to let her know they would wait for her. Then she turned her full attention back to the horselord by her side.

"What is it? Is everything well?" she asked him as she put her hand on his arm. He pulled at her gently and they began to walk down the hall.

"I was just thinking", Éomer said slowly, like he didn't know how to explain himself to her. She saw him frown briefly, and then he started to speak again, "I had a wonderful time last night. But I did wonder... after you took your stroll with Éowyn, you seemed more withdrawn. I hope it wasn't because I was too bold with you."

She was quick to squeeze his forearm in reassurance. Yes, she had been thoughtful after their talk, and kept her hands to herself. But she hadn't thought he would take it as a sign for something else.

"No, it wasn't about that at all. I'm sorry if I came across reticent. I was just thinking of what we talked about with your sister", Lothíriel explained. Éowyn had said, half humorously, that they ought to learn to communicate better. But maybe her friend had been more right than she realised at the time.

"What was it, if I may ask?" Éomer asked carefully.

"She just.. she reminded me to keep my feet on the ground, is all", she replied at length.

A deep frown instantly appeared on his features.

"So she said you weren't acting properly", he snapped, and ire and rising temper were clear in his voice.

"No! That's not at all what she meant. Your sister was very tactful. We were talking about how easy it's to be overwhelmed when one is young and in love. And I... I just wish to do right by you and by my father. You both are so very important to me", she said quickly. Even as she spoke, she saw his expression softening.

"Of course. I am sorry – I should not have snapped at you like that. It's just I get impatient. I look at you and think of the life I wish to share with you. But I know we are going to have to wait, and I wonder how long that will be. Like I told you, I'm not used to good things happening to me. And so when something does, my instinct tells me to grab it and hold on to it like for my dear life", he explained in a half-audible voice. His plain sincerity caused a queer sensation in her chest, like her heart was growing too big for herself to bear.

"It's all right, Éomer – I see where you're coming from. And if it depended just on me, I would marry you today. I do very much wish to be your wife in every sense of the word", she said in earnest, and then blushed deeply when she realised the deeper implications of her words.

She looked down in embarrassment. But he picked up her hand and gave it a slow, lingering kiss. Still holding her hand in his, he spoke softly, "I do love you so, Lothíriel."

Her cheeks grew even hotter. All the same, she tiptoed closer to him and quickly kissed his cheek. She couldn't resist the temptation of inhaling the smell of his skin before pulling back.

"I love you, too", she said, still feeling a little timid to admit it out loud. But the way he smiled when she said those words... it was an image she hid in her heart, to keep there as a dear, golden memory for all her days.

"Get you going, then. I believe your friends are waiting", he said warmly and released her hand.

She cast him a bright smile.

"I will see you later", Lothíriel said, touched his arm, and then went on to join the ladies.

* * *

Weeks had passed since Éomer had asked for Lothíriel's hand in marriage, and it was now only a couple more before the company of Faramir could be expected to arrive in Edoras. She both expected and dreaded that event. On one hand, she hoped their betrothal could be made official, but on the other, the wedding meant they would soon be parted. Just thinking of it made her feel like stone was on her heart, and every day it grew a little bit heavier.

Even so, there was still time to be together and happy. And so one afternoon, Éomer took her out riding; there was a conspiratorial smile on his features when he said he wanted to show her something special. She did not say it out loud at the time, but being with him was already special to her.

So they raced over the green fields of Rohan, and the grass was fresh and bright in the glory of new spring. The sun rode high up in the sky and the whole world seemed to be bursting with a sense of wonder and urgency, like there was not a moment to waste in new growth and life. It felt different than back in Dol Amroth. There spring came much more mildly, without this sense of awakening.

Éomer rode next to her, adjusting Firefoot's pace to her mare's slower gallop. There was a certain temptation in just watching and admiring the man and his horse, but she kept her eyes ahead. It would be quite ridiculous to get into a riding accident because she was ogling at him and not minding her steed.

The landscape was starting to change. Hills rose and fell more steeply here and on their tops rock foundations reached to the sky like giant fingers. It was a little bit ominous, but Éomer directed them ahead into a narrow vale. She followed him suit and wondered what he was going to show to her.

At the other side atmosphere changed almost entirely. There was a green vale and a narrow stream glistened in the sun. She guessed it was a tributary of Snowbourn, snaking its way from the mountains in the search of greater rivers – and eventually the sea.

Éomer dismounted, left Firefoot in the care of his esquire, and halted by her side.

"We're almost there", he said, offering her his hand, which she took as she got down as well.

There was a bit of a descent to the stream and the ground was uneven, but she took support of his hand, which was steady and solid as ever.

"I've wanted to take you here for months now, but decided to wait until the place is at its best", Éomer said, and that was the moment she saw it.

The stream bubbled away in its bed and the water sang never-ceasing songs of snow on mountaintops that ran down to meet the sea. The air was still, for the hills they had passed gave cover from the wind on the plains. It was almost as warm as in summer. Branches of weeping willows were drooping over the little stream, and on the banks a wealth of flowers in many colours were blooming. Some she recognised, but others had to be a kind that only grew here in the northern fields. The beauty of this place was almost dream-like, making her gasp softly aloud.

"I suppose the Mark is well suited for Rohirrim, with its open fields to grow and ride our horses. We love the air and the freedom, and the land is rich and fair. We have prospered here much more so than our ancestors ever did in the bitter North. It is enough for me", he said at length and rested his hand on her shoulder. He gave it a squeeze and continued in a more solemn tone, "But I admit I do wonder if it will be good enough for you."

"Why would you think so?" she asked him and tore her eyes away from the sight before her.

"It is just I know Rohan can't compete with Gondor and Dol Amroth in wealth and majesty", Éomer replied seriously, "but that doesn't mean there isn't beauty in my land. I hope that you are happy here, Lothíriel... that it will be a place you can call your home."

She now gave him a long, even look. Perhaps he would indeed doubt until the moment she was his wife. Still, he was watching her with such warm, tender eyes, and it made her heart tremble. She squeezed his hand.

"There are other things than wealth and majesty", she told him and smiled. "Just as beauty takes many forms. And I've seen a fair amount of it while staying with you and Éowyn. I think we will be perfectly happy. With you, it will be easy to build a home anywhere."

His expression was bright and glad, and he lifted her hand to his lips. Then he crouched down and picked up a bright blue flower, which he gave to her. The simple act of chivalry rather took her aback. Blood rushed across her cheeks and she busied herself with hastening the flower in her hair.

"How does it look?" she asked him.

"It is lovely. Blue suits you well", he said in a low voice as he stepped closer to her and added, "Though I admit I would love to see you in green."

The warmth on her cheeks grew. Before Lothíriel could collect herself again, he put one hand on her waist and another on the back of her neck, and then pulled her into a deep kiss. Unable to resist, she melted against him and wrapped her own arms around his neck. His warmth, his taste, his smell... oh, Elbereth! The months to come were going to be _very_ long.

He remained close when the kiss ended, bending his head close to hers, and his hands settling gently at her elbows. Lothíriel settled her own fingers on his forearms and grasped them tightly. Her heart raced in her breast but she tried to breathe evenly.

"It's spring again", he said softly. And she knew he was not commenting on the time of year, or the fresh beauty around them. The words he spoke went much deeper, even to that first night in Meduseld when they had spoken alone and she had started to wonder if she might actually be mistaken about him.

"So it is. The winter was long enough", she replied, and Éomer smiled.

"Indeed", he agreed, and then kissed her again, but it was slower and sweeter this time.

Yes, the spring was come.

* * *

The sun was westering when they rode back to Edoras. Guards had opened the gates of the city ready for them, and they shouted their greetings as the King and his company passed through. Lothíriel had a deep, beating sensation of joy still in her breast. They had shared a lovely moment in a beautiful place and she wanted to laugh and sing at how happy it made her.

Éomer looked glad as well, often casting smiles at her or doing silly little riding tricks to entertain her, at least until they came to the capital. There he assumed some degree of dignity as he greeted his subjects and lead the way up towards Meduseld.

A familiar bustle broke out as their company reached the courtyard. As ever, he dismounted swiftly and came to help her down. His hands were warm as they lingered on hers and abruptly she thought of how much she was going to miss all this when she had to go home.

They had barely stepped in to the Golden Hall when the steward of Éomer's household came to them, like he had been lying in wait just for this moment. The man's expression was permanently worried one, and so even now, she thought he was going to deliver some bad news.

"Halga, is all quite well?" Éomer asked straight away.

"I believe it is so, Sire. Forgive me my abrupt manners. It is merely this: letters from the Prince of Dol Amroth arrived this afternoon both for you and the Lady Lothíriel. The rider carrying them said they should be given to you as soon as possible", Halga replied and produced two messages, both sealed with her father's insignia.

Lothíriel looked quickly at Éomer. He met her gaze and then glanced back at the steward.

"Thank you, Halga", he said as he claimed the letter meant for him. As soon as he had it in his hand, he returned his attention back to her, "Let us go to my study."

They spoke no words on their way to the royal study. Both were too impatient to read the answers her father had sent – and to discuss what it meant for the two of them. Her heart began to race again.

But when they had reached his study, Éomer looked at her anxiously. She knew he both feared and wanted to read her father's letter. He held his own in his hands, as she did her own. What words were contained there, neither of them could guess.

"Ready?" she asked him then.

"I am. You?" he asked back in Rohirric. She almost smiled at how anxiety made him lapse into his own tongue.

"It's now or never", Lothíriel said, and with that, they both tore their letters open.

Father's letter was surprisingly formal at first. He began by relaying news from Dol Amroth, as though she somehow were more impatient for his report on that when more important news were at hand. But at last, he began to write of the matter closest to her heart.

He wrote, almost sounding like he was addressing a business partner, _"As for your and Éomer's appeals in the matter of a betrothal, I'm afraid I cannot give you my answer in this letter. I know it will be most disappointing for you both, but this is a matter I wish to discuss face to face. It has been so many months since I last saw you, my daughter, and to simply give you my blessing in a letter would be most unnatural and irresponsible. But feel not dismayed. You know that I respect few men as much as Éomer. I will soon be travelling to Rohan for Faramir and Éowyn's wedding, and then we shall speak of this_ _thoroughly."_

She read the passage three times, first to find the relevant information, second to take it in again, and third simply to make sure she had read it correctly. Almost at once, she felt disappointed. Didn't her father realise how important and urgent this was? How clear it already was to her that they were going to have to wait for many months, and that at least some small reprieve would be appreciated?

Lothíriel groaned out loud. If only she could see her father now and demand him to explain his full meaning!

"So yours was bad, too?" Éomer said abruptly, having read his own letter. His hand, where he held Father's letter, he was lowering down.

"I don't know", she said, glancing at the evenly drawn letters of the letter. "He didn't really say yes or no."

"He wants to talk about it when he comes here?" he said, more stating than asking.

"Yes. He wouldn't say more than that to me, either", Lothíriel replied. It was probably inappropriate, but she felt so angry with her father. He should know better than to leave them burning on coals for weeks to come! Or, at least let them know if he was fundamentally opposed to the idea or not.

Éomer was frowning. He was looking at the letter again, fingers growing more and more tense as though he was about to crumble it in his hand. How could she blame him of being impatient? Anyone who had struggled so much as him this past year would feel this. She recalled his words about not being used to good things happening to him. And she knew that right now, he was going through all the worst that could occur.

So she put aside the letter and went over to him. Carefully she picked up the letter he still held in his hand, though she made no move to try and read it. She simply let it fall on the floor. Then, gently as ever, she pressed both her hands against his cheeks. At once, she could see the hardness on his features subsiding. He was so open and dear and she just knew no other man was ever going to feel like this to her.

Father would see it, too.

"It'll be all right. He just wants to see us first and talk about it in person. He has no reason to reject our request", she said, talking sense into him just as much as into herself.

"I know", he said quietly.

"I will be with you. I promise", Lothíriel whispered, for she knew not what else to tell him. Father had not said expressively no, but if he did do that mistake... well, then she would come up with something. He would find out at last that she had a will of her own.

Her horselord let out a sigh and he lowered his head to rest his brow against hers. Gently he cradled her head with his fingers.

"It is the only end there can be for us", he agreed.

"Not an end", she whispered, pulling back enough to meet his eyes. They seemed more peaceful now, and more trusting. She felt so too. Whatever doubt had briefly entered their minds by her father's refusal to give a clear answer, it was gone now.

"Say a spring instead."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** And here at last is an update! I'm sorry it took so long, but real life has been a bother lately, and even when I've had time to write, it hasn't been flowing very quickly. Still, it was lovely to write some fluffy little moments between our lovebirds and just really let them grow closer to one another. I hope I managed to show their eagerness for a life together and show how impatient it makes them at times. It's that impatience which impacts both their thoughts at the end when they read Imrahil's letters. But they also have their own issues which cause them at first to feel insecure about what Imrahil's true intentions are.

Thank you for reading and reviewing! If you got time, let me know what you think!

* * *

 **Wtiger5 -** Glad you liked it! :)

 **frank . kilgenschmidt -** Indeed! Fluff can be a good way to just have positive feelings and escape the nastiness of real world at times.

I'm afraid Imrahil isn't being as straightforward as one might hope!

 **inperfection -** It's nice to write as well! I'm in such a fluff mode at the moment, it's ridiculous. :D

But yes, Déorwine has not been having the best of times, but I think this episode may have allowed him to grow as a person little bit.

 **EStrunk -** He is fun to write in that state, too! :D

I think things may start to get better for Déorwine, though! He's young and has still got a lot of things to learn, but perhaps his encounters with Lothíriel will help him getting down that road of growing as a man and as a lord.

No doubt there will be difficulties down the road, but I think they are both strong enough to be able to deal with whatever life throws at them.

 **sai19 -** :D I had such suspicions, yes!

I rather liked that bit, too. I think Lothíriel does have a knack for dealing with him when his temper flares, but at the same time, Éomer is also so weak for this woman, she doesn't even realise the extent of it herself!

I have a feeling Déorwine is headed for some better things now, indeed.

 **Doranwen -** Happy to hear you liked it! I'm afraid the madly in love thing will continue still! ;)

 **Hobbitpony1 -** To be honest, he never was a creep for me. Of course, as a writer I regard the characters as bit differently. But essentially he's just a flawed, troubled man who tries his best, though he may not always know what that is.

 **Wondereye -** In that case, I hope you liked this chapter too!

 **Anon -** It was fun bit to write, too! And I think Déorwine does think of a lot of things differently now, so I wouldn't be worried about him.

Imrahil is surely taking his sweet time, but we will see what he's got to say once they are face to face! But you are quite correct in saying he's a practical man.

 **Cricklewood16 -** I'm glad you liked it! :) After so many chapters of pining, it's great to just let them be together.

I think Éomer will forgive him too in due time, once he has had a chance to consider Déorwine and perhaps see how his experiences have changed him.

Hope you liked the bits with our lovebirds together in this chapter!

 **Indie -** Thank you! I am most flattered by your compliments, and hope I will continue to live up to expectations!

 **aryaputra -** Yes, the thread with him is very much resolved now. :)

 **Jo -** I imagine they wont! :D But still, I think Éowyn is just delighted to see them both so happy.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The early morning was quiet and still as Lothíriel ventured out of her room. She had not slept very well or much; most of her night, she had spent of thinking different ways her father might be refusing her and Éomer's request. Granted, her imagination had got out of hand, making her imaginations more and more bizarre and unlikely. Eventually she realised it was ridiculous and her father was not going to tell her she couldn't wed Éomer because she was already married by proxy to a corsair.

All the same, it made sense that her fears and doubts would be most active on the night before the arrival of Faramir's company.

Meduseld was still quiet and few people were up. She was not surprised to find Éomer awake, though. She found him standing outside, a steaming mug of tea in his hand, as he gazed in the eastern horizon. The escort of the bridegroom would not arrive until much later in the day, but its coming was close to his thoughts for more than just one reason.

"Good morning", she greeted him as she halted to stand by his side. Where she was tightly wrapped in her woollen shawl, he did not appear to mind the chill of this early hour very much.

"Good morning", he replied and reached to gently rub his hand against the back of her head. He always did reach a hand to her when they saw one another. She wondered if he was aware of doing it.

"Did you sleep poorly, too?" she asked softly.

"Aye. I kept feeling like I have forgotten something important. Or that there will be some terrible mistake of my doing that will ruin the whole wedding, and Éowyn will never speak to me again... but I know it's foolish. We all have waited for the day for so many months, so it makes sense to feel anxious now that it's getting near", he replied in slow tones and glanced at her. He did look like he hadn't spent much of last night sleeping.

She gave him a gentle smile and touched his hand.

"I don't think you or Éowyn have any reason to worry. You have both worked so hard, and I know it will be a lovely celebration. Meduseld has never been more beautiful", she reassured him. She actually wasn't sure when this had come to be, but it seemed now that he relied a good deal on what she could only call her emotional support. But it made sense in a lot of ways.

He returned her smile and intertwined their fingers.

"I'm glad you think so. And I do wish Éowyn to have a lovely wedding, though I suspect she and Faramir won't be paying much attention to minor details – like the food, or the Hall, or the guests", he noted, at which she laughed.

"That sounds about right", she agreed and pulled her shawl tighter with her free hand.

"Tea?" he asked and offered his own mug to her. The act of it, sharing his drink with her, seemed incredibly intimate. But that was just the way with him. What seemed like unusual amount of nearness to her was perfectly normal for him, as natural as a simple touch of hands or a quick kiss on her brow.

"Yes please", she said, quelling whatever Gondorian instinct told her to refuse, and leant closer. He tipped it carefully so that she could sip the hot liquid without burning her mouth.

"Mmm. That's good. Thank you", she said and cast him a smile. Though she did not say it out loud then, she loved the ease of being with him and the simple sweetness of these small moments.

"I should hope so. The cook was not happy about me bothering her with such requests so early in the morning", Éomer said and sipped the tea as well.

She hemmed softly and moved closer to him. As though already knowing what she wanted, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. She leant her head against him and for a moment, both of them just admired the beauty of a spring morning over the fields of Rohan.

 _It will be like this,_ she thought to herself, _when we are married._ The thought was sweet and precious.

"Are you nervous about meeting my father?" she asked him after a while.

"I'm not sure what to feel, to be honest. On one hand, he is my good friend. And yet at the same time, he's the father of the woman I wish to marry. It's actually very strange", he replied with a slight shake of his head.

"Yes, I can imagine that", she noted. She didn't envy his position at all – but neither did she envy her father's. She looked up at the man by her side, "It's probably no less strange to him, thinking of you as a possible son-in-law who means to take his only daughter away."

He gave her a wry look.

"I'm not certain it's that strange for him, actually. I've been thinking of it, and I wonder if... well, if he hoped to put us together like this. Béma knows I didn't make a good impression on you back in Mundburg. Your father probably guessed I would need all the time I could get to win you over", he said, thoughtful and deep. It was the way with him. In matters close to himself, his first instinct was to assume the worst, but once he was able to take a step back, his eye was as keen and discerning as it was in most things. Perhaps with time, she could help him to unlearn that pessimistic lean.

But that was a consideration for another time, and now Lothíriel thought over his suggestion about her father. She had to admit maybe he was on to something.

"I suppose we'll see when we speak with him", she said at length, "But I give you this: my father is a shrewd man. And I don't think he would have written such vague answers if he expressively meant to refuse."

"Indeed. It would be quite the bold move to travel all the way here, in my capital, just to refuse our request – and then still think he is welcome for the wedding celebration", Éomer commented.

"Yes, I think we should all like to avoid family quarrels. It is Éowyn and Faramir's day, after all", Lothíriel agreed. She didn't think there was anyone among the family or friends who thought those two deserved to have their happiness ruined by petty arguments.

"Aye. I have already promised my sister to throw out anyone who tries to stir up something", Éomer said and cast a crooked smile at her.

"I will be sure to let Amrothos know that", she quipped, making him laugh.

He rubbed her arm gently, and then said, "Why don't we get inside? I don't want you to get cold."

She made a soft sound in agreement and so they turned back. There was some more noise and movement in the hall now and breakfast would soon be served. They went through the familiar motions of him pulling the chair back for her and taking seats at the King's table. He gave her more of his tea, which was welcome in waiting for the servants to fill the table.

"It's hard to believe the day is almost here now. It seemed so far away when I first came to stay with you and Éowyn", she commented then.

"Aye. It feels unreal. So many things have changed. I can hardly think of what it will feel like when you and Éowyn are gone... most like, at least a few weeks will go by while I fully expect you or her to appear", he said in bittersweet tones.

"That is what you think now, but then I will start to write you many letters, and I will fill them with weepy, sentimental lamentations. It won't be long until you wish you never heard about me", Lothíriel said, hoping to keep him from entertaining that particular line of thought further. And he did laugh at her words.

"Is that so? I am both excited and alarmed", he said, humour glinting in his eyes. It was both exquisite and painful and she was going to miss _this_ so much.

"Oh, Béma. I just remembered I haven't even started packing", she muttered then and her usage of the Great Hunter's Rohirric name made him snort softly in laughter. "It appears I have twice the amount of belongings that I had when I came here."

"That is what usually happens. You wouldn't believe the amount of luggage Éowyn had hauled from Mundburg", Éomer said and drained the last of his tea. Putting down the mug, he added, "But you are welcome to leave such of your things here that you won't immediately need in Dol Amroth. I will see that they are properly preserved until your return."

She smiled a little bit. Yes, it was better to think of return instead of parting. And he made a good point. Her winter clothes would not be of much use in Dol Amroth, but they would be a welcome addition to her wardrobe when she came back to Rohan as his bride.

"I was wondering", he said then, "are there any Gondorian customs I should be aware of when we speak with your father?"

Lothíriel thought of it for a moment and idly followed with her eyes the servants who were now bringing out food for the hungry inhabitants of the Hall.

"There are a wealth of traditions, but I don't think any of them apply in this situation. You're his friend and a foreign king at that, so I suppose it depends on how formal my father wants to make it", she said at length. She frowned a little bit, "You probably know about exchanging the rings – they are seen as a sign of promise. But I don't have one I could give to you now."

"It's all right. We can exchange them at some later time", he said and shrugged lightly.

"Still. I wish I could leave you some token when I go", she said and made a mental note of going through what jewellery she had brought with her. It didn't feel right to leave Rohan without giving him anything to hold on to while they were separated.

He leant towards her and his fingers covered hers, brushing and interlacing in a warm, tender touch.

"I would like that", Éomer said quietly, and for a moment they were caught there, in this little world of their own. She thought of how much she cared about him and how dearly she would miss him. And it all felt so enormous that she wasn't sure an entire lifetime would be enough time to tell him of it.

"You know, you may really want to think about toning it down once Imrahil and his sons get here. If they catch you making these faces at one another, they will surely go feral", Éowyn commented lightly as she took seat between them, causing Éomer to pull away once more.

"I'm not that worried about Imrahil or Elphir", he remarked as he reached for a basket of fresh rolls. "It's Erchirion and Amrothos one should watch out for."

"Which is why you will want to put Gimli between them, along with a pitcher of strongest ale you have", Lothíriel quipped and tried to pretend she had not just felt the sharp, overwhelming mixture of her love of him and the pain of having to leave him soon. Whether the two siblings noticed it, she didn't know. Yet even if they did, they too pursued the humorous banter, and so that last morning of them three together passed in a light, loving sense of family.

* * *

King Elessar's outriders arrived in the afternoon. It would yet be an hour or so before the great entourage would reach the capital, but the announcement launched the last fierce bout of preparations. A number of high-ranking guests would have to be accommodated and their lodgings checked for one more time, the entire court would be gathering to stand in full regalia, and there would be a welcoming feast to honour the bridegroom and his party.

Now Éowyn was starting to show first signs of nerves, though they were still minimal compared to what a woman of lesser character might have presented. Still, there were these small twitches on her face, occasional frowns, and once Lothíriel even saw her friend climbing on a ladder to straighten one bridal garland, which already was perfectly fine. She called the bride back down and reminded her she was supposed to be getting ready.

Despite the various fussings of that final hour, the entire court and the household did assemble in time outside the Hall in time. The King, his sister and the highest-ranking Rohirrim peopled the terrace, and rest filled the courtyard. Lothíriel stood not far from Éowyn – a position of great honour, even if she was the King's intended. There they stood in excited silence as the noise of approaching escort began to get closer. Edoras greeted the bridegroom's company with shouts and singing, and Lothíriel knew their path would be laden with flowers as they rode up towards Meduseld.

Éowyn stood so tense and straight, one might think she would snap from the sheer force of her emotions. After so many months she was finally reuniting with her beloved Faramir – and this time, it would be for good. Lothíriel felt a strangest combination of things, from wonder of how quickly time had passed since she had first come here, to joy and happiness in the behalf of her dear friend, and it was all underlined by something that was soft and bittersweet.

And then the banners of the King, his Steward, and of Dol Amroth were carried into the courtyard. King Elessar came with Queen Arwen, and with them rode Faramir and Lothíriel's father. The company looked like they had stepped out of song: light glimmered on their polished armours and jewels in their array, their cloaks were stainless and their faces bright. It almost looked like Queen Arwen lent the whole lot of them a kind of ethereal elf-sheen.

Lothíriel sought the eyes of her father warily. She was glad to see him after so many months, but also nervous. The moment of truth was now getting near and just thinking of the possibility he would say no made her feel like her heart would burst.

Her gaze met his. He smiled brightly at her, and encouraged by that expression, she relaxed and returned the smile.

Now Éomer and Éowyn were making their way down to meet the company. It looked like she only uttered a quick greeting to them before flinging herself at Faramir. Delighted, he laughed as he received his bride, and then spun her around in a wide circle. This blatant show of joy and love roused a cheer in the crowd. Lothíriel joined them and felt tears fill her eyes. She was so happy for the two that it was almost too much to bear.

While the bridal couple were in the middle of their happy reunion, Éomer greeted the rest of the party. He spoke animatedly with King Elessar, Queen Arwen and Father. His tone seemed friendly enough even with her sire, but she could imagine the effort it was taking to keep from just demanding an answer.

Éowyn and Faramir took their time, but eventually they allowed themselves to be ushered towards the Hall, and Éomer lead his guests to Meduseld. Something of a mayhem began in the courtyard as the several ladies of the court, lead by Lady Scýne, began to direct the multitude of guests to their lodgings. But Lothíriel did not stay behind to watch this unfold. She had yet to see a glimpse of her brothers, but her father would be inside, receiving a cup of welcome along with the other high guests.

As soon as the formal part was over, Éomer had greeted the whole crowd in the hall and their cups were drained, Lothíriel made her through the crowd to where she saw her father standing. With his head of dark hair and the blue and silver of his raiment, he was easy to spot.

"Father!" she exclaimed as she finally reached his side. A bright smile lit up his features and he immediately caught her in a tight hug.

"My dear daughter!" he laughed, and after so many months of listening to Rohirric and Common Tongue, it felt strange and delightful to hear the flowing tones of Sindarin.

He pushed her back a little bit, so as to take a look at her.

"You look well, daughter", he said warmly.

"You do, too, Father. I hope your journey went well?" she asked him, and she was so glad and happy, and could not even conceive any possibility that he would soon be refusing her and Éomer's request.

"It was fine, though I admit these days I find travelling less and less pleasant", he said with a wry smile and a slight shake of his head.

She was about to ask where her brothers were when suddenly, a blue and silver bustle descended on her. There came all three of them, faces bright and glad. Elphir was the first to hug her tightly, Erchirion gave her an awkward squeeze from the side, and Amrothos grabbed her in a bear-hug.

"Sister! There you are. We've been looking all over for you!" he said as he put her down.

"You didn't have to crack my ribs, though!" she laughed and tried to ignore how damp her eyes felt. Only now did she realise how much she had missed them all. "It's so good to see you!"

"It's good to see you, too, sister. Rohan seems to have treated you well", said Elphir warmly, regarding her as though a proud mother hen witnessing the first steps of her chick.

"That is an understatement. Our little sister is not so little anymore. She looks much more grown than Amrothos", Erchirion put in.

The usual happened: the two younger brothers started to bicker and argue, while Elphir tried to mediate. It was exactly as she remembered. Lothíriel's throat felt tight and though it was not the first time she considered it, she now felt more deeply what it would feel like to actually leave Dol Amroth for good. Marrying Éomer came with a price. However, she already knew whether or not she was able to pay it.

"Father, I'm sorry for being so impatient, but have you given any thought to what we asked of you?" she spoke to Father now, while her brothers were still in the middle of their quarrel.

A faint smile appeared on his features.

"I have thought much of it, daughter. My answer did not please you well, then? Don't be troubled. I'm not looking to say no, but we truly must speak in private at first. And I would rather like Éomer to join us, too", he said gently and reached to brush her hair and her cheek.

It was true she would dearly have liked to argue. How could Father still insist on waiting? However, Lothíriel knew Father would not take it well; perhaps he'd even think it was a sign she was rushing into the betrothal and didn't know what she was doing.

At that moment, Amrothos turned his attention back to her again. He wrapped his arm loosely around her shoulders.

"So, tell us everything, sister! Have you turned Rohirric yet, or are you looking forward to returning to the real civilization in Dol Amroth?" he asked cheerfully.

She snorted out loud.

"There's no civilization wherever you are, brother. But come! We must get you settled first, and then we'll exchange news. I believe the welcoming feast will start in an hour", she said, casting the matter of betrothal from her mind from the time being.

* * *

Lothíriel took a deep breath before she lifted her hand to knock at the door of the royal study. Quickly Éomer's voice invited her to step in, which she did. There, as promised, she saw him seated with her father. Early morning's light streamed inside and they had mugs of tea before them. One more sat next to the pot.

 _"The King asks to meet you in his study in half an hour, my lady. Your lord father is with him",_ the servant had said upon interrupting Lothíriel's morning routine. Quickly she had dressed, heart beating frantically in her chest. Last night during the welcoming feast, there simply had not been a chance to get all three of them together and speak in private. But it appeared Éomer was as eager to get to this matter as quickly as it was possible.

The two men were conversing quietly, but both fell silent when she arrived. She swallowed and tried to smile.

"Good morning", she greeted them.

Éomer stood up and came to her, reaching a hand towards her, as he ever did when he saw her. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

"Good morning, dear one. We were just talking about you", he said. There was a warm glimmer in his eyes, which she took for a good sign. At least it did not appear like they had been arguing.

"Talking about me behind my back? Outrageous", she retorted, attempting to sound light. She hoped neither of them would see how nervous she felt.

"Only good things, dear daughter. Éomer here couldn't stop praising your good qualities", Father said as he got up as well. The look in his eyes was thoughtful, but she couldn't say how he had taken those praises. But at her intended groom, she cast a look that was somewhere between _you shouldn't have_ and _what am I going to do with you_.

The scoundrel just smiled before turning to pull out a chair for her and pouring some tea in the empty mug.

"Come join us, Lothíriel", he said warmly, and once she was seated and had her tea, he also settled down once more.

There was a strange, awkward moment as they all sat silent. Lothíriel did not dare to look at either of their faces. Though she didn't speak, her heart was racing in her breast.

"Well, Imrahil", Éomer said at length, sounding much more collected than she felt, "you know our hopes.I love your daughter more than anything. I have spoken to you why I think she would be a good queen; you know her kindness, patience and grace just as I do. To be able to call her my wife would be a great honour indeed."

Her chest felt tight when she heard him speak these words. She had to struggle for a bit to find her voice, but eventually she too was able to put forth her own thoughts.

"Father, I love this man. His courage and goodness inspire me, and he makes me feel more confident and sure about myself. I want to join my life with him and see where this path will lead. I have not met anyone like Éomer and I doubt that I ever will again; I wish I could tell you how much he means to me, but no words seem to make it justice. So I will just ask you to give us your blessing, Father", Lothíriel said and her voice grew stronger as she spoke. And she met Éomer's eyes, and it seemed to her that with each word from her, he grew a little more joyous.

Having had her say, she dared to look at her father. Slowly his gaze drifted between her and Éomer and a slight smile was on his face.

"It rather sounds like you have figured it out", Father spoke at last. "And I am glad. You wouldn't speak in this way if you did not care truly for one another, and any father could not hope for more. So, my answer is yes. I will give you my blessing."

Lothíriel could not help but squeal. First she jumped up and rushed to her father. She squeezed him tight before moving away. Then Éomer was already next to her and she threw her arms about him. His own came to her, shaking slightly in sheer delight and relief.

Father was smiling still as he watched their happy reaction. He got up on his feet.

"It is a good thing. One rarely sees a pair so well-suited for one another", he said and reached his hands to them, one on Lothíriel's shoulder and another on Éomer's.

And there was great joy in Meduseld.

* * *

So came the wedding of Éowyn and Faramir in Edoras of the Riddermark.

The traditions of both lands were honoured. The groom covered the bride with a cloak and their hands were fastened with a colourful ribbon she had woven. Blessings and oaths were spoken by the sages, and this ceremony was also translated in Rohirric to convey the meaning to those who didn't understand the tongues of Stoningland.

Lothíriel watched this happening and was glad for her cousin and friend. It almost felt like the two of them were glowing, now that they were at last united and beginning their life together. But often she glanced at Éomer, standing on the terrace of Meduseld as her. He was arrayed in green and gold as was his wont, wearing even his circlet that had come from the kings of old. It hit her in those moments, this wonder and expectation that she would be marrying this golden man and know the joy that Éowyn and Faramir now had on these very steps. It may presently seem far away, but it was sure as well. Father had said yes.

But she also recalled what this meant for her betrothed. No, it was not loss, for Éowyn would always be his sister. And yet with her leaving, the last of his kin was going to depart the Mark.

After the ceremony, there was a great feast in the Golden Hall of the King. Lothíriel had not seen its like during her time in Edoras. There was song and laughter and joy, toasts were raised, and guests from both lands mingled easily among one another. She saw the bliss of Éowyn and Faramir, excelling all that she could have hoped for when she had first heard of their betrothal, and their friends beamed to see the couple finally united after their long waiting. But she also saw the bittersweet look on Éomer's features when he thought no one was watching.

It had been agreed on the night before that Éowyn would announce the news to the court. She and Faramir had sternly refused any implication that attention would shift unduly from them on their long-awaited day; rather, she had insisted she wanted to do this for her brother on her final days in Edoras. Éomer had said it was fitting, and not just because she was in many ways the reason he and his bride had found one another.

So after a few courses, when the general atmosphere was properly loosened and the guests were in a festive mood, Éowyn rose and rang her goblet to get the crowd's attention. Lothíriel's heart jumped in her throat, although she knew there was no reason to feel nervous.

"On the behalf of the House of Eorl and my husband Prince Faramir, I would like to thank you all for joining us on this long-awaited day. It is good to see you all here again in these happier circumstances. It has been a long winter and often I have wondered if it might end at all", she spoke in a strong voice, beaming at the audience. A few cheers rose when she paused, but then she continued to speak. "But I have had the best of friends to see me through the endless months of separation from the one I love. In many ways she has been vital for many months now, and for that reason, I could not be happier to share these happy tidings – though I expect there are many among you who will not be surprised at all."

Now there was more cheering, especially among Rohirric guests who knew well what Éowyn was about to announce, and Lothíriel already felt the heat creeping up her neck.

"My friends, lords and ladies, I am pleased to inform you all that the bonds of friendship between Gondor and Rohan shall be renewed once more, and we will soon gather here in Meduseld to witness another happy union. My brother, Éomer King, has asked for the hand of Lady Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, daughter of Prince Imrahil, and she has accepted him. Her father has also agreed to this union. I am sure that you all will join me in wishing them the blessings of ancient Powers that are and will ever remain in the West", Éowyn said and the crowd erupted in wild applause. But Éomer rose to his feet and lifted his goblet at the direction of his bride and her family, smiling as he did. She rose as well and curtsied at him in answer, even if the moment felt so unreal that it was almost as though she was observing it from afar.

Now both courts of Rohan and Gondor knew the state of matters. It really was happening.

After Éowyn's announcement, the general mood in the hall was even higher, if possible. It almost felt like all these happy tidings had caused a deeper sense of alliance between the guests. A happy night, indeed. But most of all, she longed to be with him – her betrothed.

Not far from her, she heard Amrothos whispering in earnest to Erchirion: _"Pay up!"_

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked Elphir, who was seated between them. Her eldest brother gave her a smile of one who has suffered long torment.

"They had a bet going on about you and Éomer, and how soon you would be betrothed. It appears Amrothos has won", he replied.

"I don't believe it! My own brothers!" she moaned, shaking her head.

"Oh, don't act surprised. We've been waiting for this to happen for months! Don't think we didn't notice that Éomer never looked at any woman as long or as often as he did at you back in Minas Tirith after the war. Or that you looked right back at the man. And don't you suppose Father missed any of it, either", Elphir replied. Then, having said that, he reached his hand to Erchirion's direction. Grumbling as he did, he put small purses of coin in both brothers' hands.

"You too, Elphir? Oh, Béma", Lothíriel groaned and took a mighty gulp of her mead. She also made a mental note of having to talk with her father about it. For whatever reason, she felt like the victim of some elaborate sham.

"Elbereth, you sound positively Rohirric. It's a good thing Father agreed to let you marry, otherwise I'm not sure what we would do with you", Elphir commented lightly and humour twinkled in his normally grave and reserved eyes. She slapped his forearm in gentle reproach and opted not to explain her brother how one really couldn't express one's frustration, disbelief or failed expectations as well as one could with those two words, rising deep from one's belly and gaining momentum from the tongue. _Oh, Béma._

When a moment came when the dancing was just about to start, she made her way to Éomer in the commotion of the crowd, and put her arms about him. He twitched at first in surprise but relaxed quickly when he saw it was her.

Lothíriel said nothing, and no words were needed, anyway. She could feel him turn all mellow in her grasp and wondered if they both were a little bit moved by the bridal mead.

"Would you like to dance with me?" she asked him and rested her hands against his chest lightly.

"With pleasure", he replied and smiled once more. He got up on his feet and offered her his hand. She took it and expected him to lead to where the other couples were talking eagerly in wait, but Éomer gave her a long look.

"What is it?" she asked him curiously as his eyes lingered on her.

"Nothing. Did you know that you are very beautiful today?" he said and quickly pressed his lips to her fingers.

A warm sensation grew deep inside and she flashed him a bright smile.

"I did not, but thank you. I'm not sure how and why anyone should notice me when Queen Arwen and Éowyn are present, but I suppose you are not impartial in that regard", she quipped as they made their way to the floor.

Éomer let out a deep, rumbling laughter.

"No, I am not. And that is now known in Gondor and Rohan. I have a bride", he said, looking happy and a little bit disbelieving, like he still expected this was either just a dream or some kind of an elaborate joke on his expense.

"Indeed you do", she said and squeezed his hand in gentle reassurance. Touch often did more with him than words. She looked up at him and said, "Can you believe it? My brothers actually had a bet on how soon we would be betrothed!"

He snorted out loud.

"So that's why Amrothos looked like he was suffering from constipation. I'm not surprised", he said wryly. Lothíriel laughed with abandon. How could she not, when she felt so light and glad?

As they moved to join the other dancers, they were hailed by many of the guests, eager to congratulate them. She felt a little shy, but Éomer was at ease, smiling at the well-wishers and thanking them _"for us both."_

To mask her nerves, she tiptoed to whisper in his ear: "Careful. They will think you are smitten."

"They will think that, anyway", he whispered back. "And I have no intention of proving them wrong."

With that, he planted a kiss on the top of her head. Lothíriel felt like she might burst from sheer delight and pleasure The man surely knew how to make her feel special.

Éowyn and Faramir opened the first dance. The two looked mostly unaware of anything else except one another and Lothíriel couldn't help but smile at this vision before her eyes. She thought back to the dark days after the great battle before the walls of Minas Tirith and the deep unhappiness she had perceived in her new friend, and also the dark place between life and death where Faramir had swam until King Elessar had saved him. Much had been fulfilled today and she was glad, even if it meant an end to this time she had spent together with her two Rohirric friends. But Lothíriel could not be sad, witnessing this joy these two had in one another. No one deserved happiness like Éowyn and Faramir did.

Then Éomer tugged gently at her hand and they joined the blissful couple on the floor. King Elessar and Queen Arwen did so as well, and soon enough it seemed that the whole hall was dancing around them.

Together they whirled around in the crowd, and she felt like the music and their movement was beating in her very blood. It reminded her of the night of the Yule feast – although now, there was no need to try and suppress and hide her feelings. And the hands of her betrothed held on surely to her, no longer uncertain whether the contact would be welcomed.

How they laughed and danced that night! How glad she was to see her betrothed so happy, instead of mourning the partings to come! For this night, they were betrothed, young and in love, and the road ahead held promise. Lothíriel was certain the songs and joy in Meduseld rattled even the stars.

And however long they would have to wait, she knew it was going to be worth it.

* * *

With the wedding celebrations, days were full and passed swiftly. There were many events to entertain the multitude of guests and to honour the union of Prince Faramir and Princess Éowyn – and perhaps also to remember the first year since the passing of the enemy. The mood in the capital of Rohan felt like an ongoing festival; every inn and guest house were filled with people, and some even had to camp outside the walls. It looked like at any given time, one might stumble across a makeshift party.

Though these were Lothíriel's last days in Rohan – for the time being, at least – there were not many chances to spend time with Éomer or Éowyn. When he was not entertaining guests, he was usually meeting with King Elessar. This was a rare chance for both their councils to sit down together and talk, exchange news and make plans. Father often took part in those meetings, being one of King Elessar's most trusted advisers. As for Éowyn, it was quite pointless to try and get her or Faramir's attention, and they only participated formal gatherings.

So it was her brothers or Queen Arwen Lothíriel spent most of her time with in those final days, and Hild was often with them and Lady Scýne, if her duties allowed her. The Queen of Gondor and Arnor would probably be Lothíriel's best friend in coming months, as no one else could advise her in what it was like to be the consort of a king.

But after a few days, Lothíriel was able to get her father alone before the grand tourney in that afternoon. She still wanted to have some words in private with him, but in the general madness of wedding revelries, the moments she had caught him alone had been much too brief. As it was not easy to find a private corner at this time for a quiet conversation, they took tea in her chamber, which was now starting to look forlorn and bare as her packing progressed. It made her feel sad, and so she spent as much time away from the room as possible.

"So, you wished to talk with me", Father said as he cradled a mug between his hands. He gave her a studious look and she knew he had already guessed what she had in mind.

"It was just... you haven't really told me what you think about Éomer... or the prospect of me marrying him", she started carefully.

He smiled wryly at her.

"Are you afraid I secretly resent him?" he asked her.

"Of course not. But at the wedding feast, Elphir said you had all noticed him looking at me. And I wondered what you thought about that", she explained. Having considered the matter, she now had suspicions whether her father had rather planned this all along.

"So, he told you that? Well, he was quite correct. We did pay heed to the way Éomer looked at you, and that would have been one thing if you had not got so awkward around him. The signs were clear and promising indeed. He said nothing at the time, of course, and I thought it well. I do not think you would have been ready for marriage then, and had I made such suggestion to you, your heart might have turned against him rather than towards him", Father answered slowly and regarded her with gentle, thoughtful eyes. She had to agree he had judged right. Granted, there had been certain fascination about Éomer from the moment she had seen him, but she had also been slightly scared. It seemed ridiculous now, but it was proof she had been too young at the time.

She nodded silently to confirm he had made the right assumptions. So he continued to talk.

"Still, I knew already I could not wish for a better husband for my only daughter. He would take care of you and respect you, if you only let him. My problem was the issue of how to bring you two together in a way that would help you to overcome your shyness. But it so happened Éowyn settled it for me by asking for you to come stay in Rohan until the wedding. So I thought to myself, if Éomer did not win your heart in that time, he never would", Father finished his explanation, now smiling as though he thought himself quite the schemer.

Lothíriel snorted softly.

"And then when you got the answer you wanted, you went ahead to write that awfully vague letter", she said a little bit dourly, but his smile didn't falter.

"So you are still cross about that? I am sorry to have kept you waiting. But I only wanted to make sure that you both are committed before giving my blessing. True, the signs had promised well, but they do not always bear fruit. And you are my only daughter, Lothíriel. I couldn't give you away so lightly", he replied evenly. She grumbled a bit, but couldn't find fault in his logic. He had only held back because he cared about her and wanted to make sure she was safe.

"What changed your mind?" she asked him then, pouring them some more tea.

"I took one look at you and him together and knew. It is plain now, my dearest daughter, what was only hinted at back in Minas Tirith. To tell you the truth, I am a little bit scared of the idea of standing in between you", he noted, eyes twinkling in gentle humour. But she did wonder what things she and Éomer would be prepared to do, if Father had tried to separate them.

"But you still said you wish for a long betrothal", she pointed out. This was a topic they hadn't yet conversed in depth. While the wedding celebrations continued, it was impossible to actually negotiate the particulars of the matter. If she should guess, "a long betrothal" probably meant they would not be wedded this year. Having to wait for an entire year... the idea made her shudder.

"Yes, I did", Father said, growing more serious. "Believe me or not, it is also for your good. You both are young, Lothíriel, and you are so even more than him. But Éomer is not just any man. He is the King of Rohan, and being his wife and queen is an enormous responsibility. You shouldn't rush to it, but take time to prepare – to learn what it is you are committing to by marrying him. And you must take heed of what this means to your House. My daughter will not wed in a way that doesn't fit her station."

She could not help but grimace.

"Elbereth help me, you aren't going to make this into some kind of a pompous performance that will last an entire year?" she demanded to know, little bit scared that it might be the case. Not that she was going to tell him, but elopement was starting to look like an attractive option.

Father let out a deep laugh.

"I'm not Denethor, dear child. But don't think we can avoid certain formalities. You are betrothed to a sovereign king of Gondor's most important allies, and a lot of people are going to see it as a spectacle whether we like it or not", he replied, sounding all too unconcerned about the affair.

"Éomer is going to love it", she said sourly and put away her mug. It would soon be time to join the rest of the retinue and make their way to the tourney site.

But Father looked at her with a strange, soft look in his eyes.

"He may not love it", he said and reached to squeeze her hand, "but he does love you. And you will have this to sustain you in all the nonsense that your societies are going to put you through."

"He really is the dearest thing, Father", she said quietly and wrapped her fingers around his. "I don't know why I didn't see that right away."

He smiled, though it seemed to her he was also a little bit sad. He too would be parting with something he loved.

"People aren't always what they seem. Give them a chance and they will surprise you", he said and got up on his feet, probably thinking of the tourney as well.

When Lothíriel linked her arm with his and they made their way outside, she thought of all the people she had met in Rohan and how right her father was.

* * *

The last night came all too soon.

Lothíriel had long waited and dreaded this day. It marked the end of her stay in Rohan: tomorrow morning, the wedding celebrations were formally over and the Gondorian retinue would begin the long journey home.

It was unreal. Where had all this time gone? Hadn't she only just got here? How was she supposed to get back to her old life in Dol Amroth? Somehow, though she hadn't even left yet, she already missed Rohan and Éomer.

While the farewell feast was in progress in Meduseld, Lothíriel snuck out and headed to the backside of the Golden Hall. Éomer waited there, watching the last rays of the sun vanish behind the mountains. But when he heard her light steps, he turned to face her and spread his arms to her.

She collided with him with a soft _"oh!"_ and grabbed him tightly. She hid her face in his chest and pretended she never would have to let go.

For a while they stood like that. There would be no chance to say goodbye tomorrow – not properly, at least. And so he had slipped a note in her hand earlier this day, asking her to join him at this time. How could she not? After these many months, it would be wrong to leave him with a chaste kiss and few cool words.

She tried to think of nothing, focusing on his smell, the softness of his tunic against her face, the warmth radiating from him. It would be weeks, or months even, before she felt these things again.

"Don't cry, dear heart. You know this is not the end", he spoke softly and lifted her chin. She hadn't realised she had been sobbing quietly into his chest.

"Sorry", she stammered in embarrassment; she hadn't meant to cry tonight, at least not while saying goodbye to him. "I'm just going to miss you so much."

He brushed her cheeks gently to dry the tears.

"I'm going to miss you, too. But I promise I will ride to Gondor as soon as I can", Éomer told her and bent down his head to kiss her cheeks.

"And you must come to Dol Amroth this summer. I insist. Or I'll come and fetch you myself", she said, trying to smile even though her eyes were still damp.

"Don't worry. I'll come, even if I have to steal out of Edoras at night. We'll have a lovely time, and you can show me around in your home, and be so happy oblivious that my council will have to send an éored to take me back", he said to her, which was so sweet and painful at the same time that she hugged him tight again and pressed her cheek against him.

"An entire year will be such an awful long time to wait", she uttered in frustration.

"I know. But we'll write letters and I'll try to visit Gondor more often than this past year. It should be easier now, I think. And you'll be busy making ready. We can make it, just like Faramir and Éowyn", he reassured her as he ran one hand up and down her back.

She looked up at him.

"You'll be all right, won't you?" Lothíriel asked him, at which he smiled slightly.

"Absolutely. It's one thing to look ahead and see nothing, and another entirely to know you'll be there waiting for me", Éomer said and kissed her brow.

"Yes, you are right", she agreed at length. She hadn't thought of herself as being impatient, but that was what she felt now. And maybe it was wise to slow down a bit, like her father had insisted.

But it would not stop her from missing her betrothed.

"I love you", she told him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She liked how natural it felt, even if she had to tiptoe a little bit.

"I love you, too. So, so much", he whispered, cradled her head between his hands, and then brought his lips to hers.

It was everything she could have hoped for when coming to see him tonight. Soft and sweet at first, and then deeper and more urgent. At the end, she was nearly whimpering – for mercy, or for him to continue, she couldn't say. It was the kiss to remember what lay ahead, and that it would be worth the wait.

That this was just the beginning.

He remained close to her as they both drew deep, shaky breaths. For a while, Lothíriel kept her eyes closed and put this all in her memory. It was so late, and in the morning she would be leaving. But perhaps now she was a little less scared of it.

"Remember that when the nights are cold", Éomer said, and his voice was warm and soft and deep as the night itself. The sun had long since set, but she could still see his features in the light of the rising moon.

Lothíriel smiled.

"Oh, believe me, I will be thinking of little else."

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you like this update! :)

For all his vagueness, Imrahil does have good intentions! And like some of you suspected, he was not quite oblivious to the idea of our two lovebirds together. However, he does see the importance in a long betrothal. Lothíriel still has a lot to learn.

All te same, I hope you liked this chapter, and let me know what you think! For one, I'm interested to hear whether you'd like to read about their year apart, or whether I should speed ahead.

* * *

 **EStrunk -** I hope this chapter shows it's mutual! And however frustrating Imrahil's answer was, he only means well!

 **Tibblets -** I'm always glad to hear from you, too!

 **Cricklewood16 -** Glad to hear I was able to provide the chapter at the right time! :)

I do enjoy writing them together, though!

 **aryaputra -** Happy to hear you liked it!

 **Jo -** You were quite correct! I hope you liked their talk with Imrahil in this chapter!

 **Anon -** I think that's the way she is, once she has made up her mind. :)

 **sai19 -** Some good fluff is great, indeed! And we have the agreeing Imrahil at last!

 **frank . kilgenschmidt -** For him, it's so often just being so worried about whether good things are going to pan out or not. But I think he's now much more secure in that regard!

But yes, Imrahil just wanted to be there himself, although he did have some high hopes already!


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Leaving was not easy.

The further away she got from Edoras, the more Lothíriel wanted to turn her horse and race back. The urge was burning, raging against all reason, but she kept her eyes ahead and fought herself so that she would not glance behind. Her brothers left her alone, knowing she was not in a mood to interact.

She only relaxed a little bit when she knew she wouldn't be glimpsing Edoras anymore, even if she did lapse and gaze the way they had come. But she already missed _him_ so much, and wondered if he felt the same.

Days of travel were more uncomfortable than she recalled. After the first few days in saddle, she was sore and stiff, but despite the invitation she didn't join Queen Arwen in her carriage; after so many months in Rohan, you simply didn't travel by such means. And the bride of the King of Rohan had a certain standard to live up to, after all.

If days were difficult, so were the nights. Though her tent had every comfort she could hope for, Lothíriel still could scarcely fall asleep. She missed Meduseld, its sounds and smells, and the knowledge that in the morning she would be seeing Éomer. An entire year was such a long time and so many things could happen and go wrong. In her moment of weakness, she even thought of Éomer losing interest now that she was no longer near him. So she felt quite miserable for several nights after leaving Edoras, though she did her best to hide it.

But then one evening a change came. Lothíriel was taking a walk in the hopes of stretching out some stiffness and her feet had taken her to the edges of the camp. The sun was setting and shadows were descending, but the camp was alive with a number of tasks like a small city. Guards made their rounds about the camp, though the likelihood of disturbances was not high.

She halted there and gazed over the plains. If she looked hard, she thought she could see the smokes of some little village in the distance. She thought of Éomer back in Edoras and wondered what he was doing now. Was he locked up in his study, or sitting in the hall with some of his friends? Did he strain his ears to hear her or Éowyn's steps approaching?

There was a sudden movement in the field. And then she saw them, the two great horses galloping over the grass like in some sort of a play race. In the dying light they almost seemed to be shimmering.

A sudden sensation of peace fell on her and all her worry and dread vanished. It seemed quite silly, actually. All was well. Rohan would still be here when she got back and it would welcome her, just like her betrothed.

"My lady, is everything all right?" a voice asked from her side, and she saw one of the guards standing there and looking at her in concern.

"I'm fine. Did you see..." she started to speak and gazed over the field again, but did not see the horses anymore. Not that she had really expected so.

She shook her head and smiled for the first time since leaving _him_.

"Never mind. Thank you for keeping an eye", she said to him, nodded and went her way once more.

That night she slept better than ever since leaving Meduseld. In her dream, Éomer came to her, riding on a great horse of silver.

* * *

Minas Tirith was mostly the same as she recalled, though it was perhaps less dusty and shabby as the last time she had been there. King Elessar and his people had been busy during the winter, mending the scars and signs of the great battle, and polishing the face of the mighty city for the first time in many, many years. She knew some had said that the returned king would retain his glory only as long as his novelty remained, but judging by the man's efforts so far, he really might be all that had been said about him.

Her family stayed in the city for a few weeks with the exception of Elphir, who continued the journey home after only a couple of days; Father had some errands for him back in Dol Amroth and he was anxious to see his wife and son. The better part of Amrothian court went with him and so did Éowyn and Faramir. Anxious to begin their honeymoon for real in their own home, they only tarried in the White City for the inevitable feast of welcome.

And so came another parting Lothíriel had not been looking forward to. Éowyn had been her constant friend for so many months, but now their labours together were finished, and there was nothing more she could do for her cousin's new wife.

After a long, tight hug and promises they would visit one another soon, she watched her dearest friend and sister ride away under the banners of the Steward and Dol Amroth. She wiped errant tears from her cheeks and thought she now understood a little bit better what Éomer must have felt when watching them go.

Thankfully, there was plenty to do and to distract herself from moping. She would have to plan her dowry, the gowns and linens and silverware among other such things, and prepare gifts for her bridegroom and other members of the household. Lothíriel purchased some of the finest linen in the city and began making the first shirt she would give her future husband. She gave it all the same attention and care as to Éowyn's bridal shift. She talked with a few scholars of the royal library about the manuscript she had collected in Rohan, and they were pleased with the idea of collection of Rohirric tales and songs. Now that the two kingdoms had grown closer again, there would be wider interest in the legends of the North.

She also spent much of her time with Queen Arwen, who alone in the Mortal lands knew what it was like to be the King's consort. While there was certain alienness about the Elven queen's character thanks to the long life she had already lived among the fair folk of the Eldar, she was kind and wise and thoughtful. And she too could say a thing or two about marrying a man whose life and world had been quite different to what she had known. So they often walked together in the Citadel, or the green quiet of the garden in Houses of Healing, and the Queen described how some had said it was not wise to marry someone from a different world, even if it was allowed for her to choose her own fate.

"But what sets you apart is not so important as what unites you. And as long as you will love the same things and strive to understand one another, your differences can be your strength", she said and Lothíriel listened to her in earnest.

As they walked, Queen Arwen also spoke to her of making effort, and how it was necessary in every marriage, be it between Elf and Man or Gondorian and Rohir. And with it, one had to have always faith in the other. It would be hard, sometimes, but nobody married anybody because it was the easy option. The easiest thing was, the Queen said, to live for your own selfish needs, but in the end one would find little meaning in it.

"Yet you must remember that in your marriage, there will always be three participants: you, him, and the kingdom. That is the sacrifice you make when you choose him", the Elven queen continued, soft and serious. It was a talk that gave Lothíriel a lot to think about – and to talk with Éomer sooner or later.

In those days she noticed her standing in society had changed more or less. Before, she had never been the prettiest, the most fashionable, or popular among the nobility of Gondor, despite her wealthy and powerful father. Now she was receiving invitations to more parties, parlours and picnics than she could possibly attend during her family's stay in Minas Tirith. When she was able to make an appearance, she soon found herself surrounded by a small crowd – some of whom had never paid her a second glance until now. But she met them politely and steadfastly, like Éomer would receive any petitioner. Nobody would be thinking that she could be used to influence the King of Rohan.

Still, it was a little bit overwhelming to suddenly be the centre of so much attention. Thankfully, she was mostly too preoccupied to participate many such gatherings. Amrothos said people would soon get over it, but Erhiciron was more serious when he told her to get used to it.

Éomer's first letter arrived while she was still in the White City. A Rider in the formal cloak of a royal messenger rode to her father's house and delivered the sealed message to her hand. She had hard time keeping her excited squeal to herself and not flying all the way to her chamber, where she could read the letter in peace. At least she formally greeted the Rider in his own native tongue and promised him housing – a deed which seemed to please him very much – before she made her exit.

The letter both delighted her and forged her heartache anew. Seeing Éomer's steady, angular handwriting, Lothíriel could easily picture him in his study, dipping the quill in some ink and drawing characters as purposefully as he did all things. His tone was slightly downcast, though she could tell he was trying to be cheerful. Her poor, dear horselord. How alone he must feel now that she and Éowyn were gone! At least this time of the year was quite busy in Edoras and he had plenty of tasks at hand; she hoped it would keep him from brooding too much.

Once she had read his letter, she moved over to her small desk, dug the drawer for a fresh sheet, and then began to compose her own message for him. She didn't fill it with weepy lamentations, like she had humorously threatened. Rather, she began on a light-hearted note.

 _"My dearest betrothed!_

 _How it pleases to call you so. Moments still come when I wonder about it, like perhaps I was in a dream, after all. But now I've got your letter to prove my insecurities wrong, and I am glad."_

She proceeded to thank him for his letter, to relay the most urgent news and comment on a few parts of his message. Then, unable to hold back her gleaming little secret any longer, she proceeded to write: _"Guess what I saw when we were riding for Gondor? It was_ them _again. Two silver horses were racing over the field at sunset, and I can't help but think in metaphors..."_

* * *

In May Lothíriel received the news she had waited for anxiously: in a couple of weeks time, Éomer was riding to Gondor, and after visiting King Elessar, he would travel south to Dol Amroth.

She knew it was too early to get anxious and excited, and yet upon reading his message she almost flew from her seat, squealing in delight. Éomer was coming! His arrival was yet weeks away, but now at least she had a date to look forward to and the knowledge she would be seeing him indeed, instead of waiting for some distant time.

So she started planning his stay, and was drawing timetables and pondering all the best locations of Dol Amroth, until it seemed that every minute of his visit would be filled with some sort of activity. But after a couple of days of this, Lothíriel realised her error.

Éomer was not travelling to participate some inane festival. He may be a king but as a man, he was down to earth, finding pleasure in other things than glittering parades. He came to see her and the rest of the family. With his hectic life back in Rohan and the inevitable pomp waiting in Minas Tirith, he would welcome a time of some leisure and peace with his bride.

As such, she discarded all her plans at once and took an entirely different approach to the coming visit. A couple of banquets were probably unavoidable, but other than that there was no reason to make this any more formal.

And so she waited, and planned, and imagined days as happy and golden as he had spoken of, so that his advisers would indeed have to send an entire _éored_ to bring him back home.

A couple weeks later, he sent another letter from Minas Tirith. Éomer was on his way and it was not long now that he would at least reach the city by the sea. Eagerly, aching for the moment of their reunion, she pictured his journey south and how it would feel like to him to see these strange new lands, and at last the sea. Her betrothed was so deeply rooted in the North, the lands south of the White City must be quite alien to him. No doubt he would seem so to the people of those parts as well, riding his great war-horse and arrayed in the vibrant green and gold of his House.

It now seemed to her that time purposefully slowed its pace. Hours crawled as she listened for the horn that would announce his arrival and anxiously fluttered about the palace, making sure that all was ready. Not that she expected Éomer would much mind if he came across a single dust mote, but at least it gave her something to do while she waited. Oh, Elbereth! If this was how it would feel like in the coming months, she surely feared for her sanity.

Her father watched her antics with gentle humour, but her brothers did not refrain from teasing her mercilessly. Yet it also appeared they had their own difficulties coming in terms with the fact that their little sister was not so little anymore. One time, Amrothos theatrically spread his arms and exclaimed, "Ossë's beard, what did that man even do to you?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him and opened her mouth, but he regretted his question immediately.

"On a second thought, please don't tell me", he said and grimaced. She didn't need to know what disturbing thing had just occurred to him.

Her father came to her on a night not long before Éomer was expected to arrive. She was seated by her dressing table and combed her hair and he took seat on the window board close by. He had not much changed during the months of her absence, though she felt like he was a little less tense than before. She thought his eyes were more peaceful and features less strained than during those last months before the war.

"You are grown quite beautiful, daughter. More a woman now than a girl", he commented warmly.

She met his gaze with a wry smile.

"Impressions can be deceiving, Father", she told him, knowing full well there was still so much she needed to learn. She had the examples of Éowyn and Queen Arwen, and if she meant to be their equal... well, it would take hard work.

"Perhaps", he said softly as he regarded her. "Are you nervous about your future? You seem so eager that I wonder if you ever worry about it."

"Sometimes. But I'm so sure about Éomer that... well, it outweighs all doubts. I expect it will be scary at first, being a queen – though not as scary as it would be if I didn't know what Rohan is like, and whether people there can accept me", she replied at length. She smiled at him then and laid aside her comb, "You needn't worry about me. You've been an excellent example and a teacher, and if I can show my new people even half the leadership that you always do, then all will be well."

Her father smiled as well, but his eyes, grey just as hers, revealed the sadness of letting go.

"And I am sure than you will do just that my dearest child. You have grace and a kind heart, and that kindness springs from a soundness and clarity that will only grow stronger and keener with years. I think Éomer sensed this as well when he turned his eyes to you. You will be a wonderful queen", he said steadily as he reached to squeeze her hand.

"Is it it enough, Father?" she asked him softly and a little bit unsurely.

"Who can tell? At least I believe it is. Times are changing and there is much that will take mending and healing. Softer hands are needed now. I do not think we have seen the last of war, but we no longer have to spend all our strength in just surviving. I believe it is better to let the innocent to rebuild the world, rather than the cynical and hardened", he said gently.

For a reason she could not name, Lothíriel felt her throat grow tight. She got up on her feet and went next to her father and put her arms around him. He felt as reassuring as he ever had, momentarily making her feel like a little girl again. She closed her eyes.

"I am going to miss you very much", she whispered.

"And I will miss you, dear daughter. But it is now a time for you to live your own life, and I am eager to see what you make of it", he said, holding her to him. He let out a soft sigh and went on, "I never thought there would be a man worthy of you, and I'm glad to be proven wrong... you do not know how relieving it is, knowing one's child will be loved and cared for so well as you will be."

Her eyes stung as she lowered her head to kiss the top of his head.

"Thank you, Father. For everything", she whispered against his soft, dark hair.

"You are welcome, my dear."

* * *

King Éomer of Rohan was received into the city of Dol Amroth with all the imaginable pomp: the great trumpets announced his coming, citizens filled the street and cheered as he passed, and the entire court of Prince Imrahil stood in their silks and jewels to greet him. There was an expectant current in the air; while many had seen the famous Rohirric sovereign in Minas Tirith, this was the first he was to visit Dol Amroth. There were records of some of his predecessors making the trip here, but not in the time of anyone who lived now, and certainly not with such purpose as his.

Something came loose in Lothíriel's chest when he rode into the courtyard, followed by his Riders in flawless formation. Their arrival was like a fresh breath of northern wind, their spears gleaming, their horses snorting and stomping hooves against stone, and their fierce eyes scanning the area like even now they were prepared for battle. But Éomer looked to be at ease. He exposed his golden head as he took off his helmet and fastened it to the saddle. Then he dismounted swiftly and with a broad grin, he began to approach the family of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth.

There was a moment of terror when she was scared to death that the weeks apart had cooled off his feelings, revealing this attachment as a brief infatuation. What if he had only come here to take back his proposal? But then their eyes met and all her silly fear melted away immediately. Even she in her inexperience knew that a man did not look at a woman like he did at her, if he did not want her.

She couldn't hold herself back. And after all, it had been so long since she had last seen him. So, without a moment's consideration to propriety and protocol, she dashed forward, arms extended, and then leapt to meet him. He laughed as he caught her and then swung her around. Being momentarily airborne, she felt even more giddy. It took quite the effort of will not to kiss him right there before her father and his entire court.

Eventually Éomer put her down again, but he still appeared oblivious to the rest of the world as he regarded her, as though there was some hunger that only this long stare could satisfy.

"Welcome to Dol Amroth", she said breathlessly, beaming at him in delight.

"Thank you. It's good to be finally here. You look well", he replied and lifted her both hands to kiss them. It didn't look like he was about to notice anything except her for a good while.

So, knowing that moments were passing and people were waiting, she wrapped her own fingers around his and gave a small tug.

"Come, let us go and see my father", she said gently, though it was really very frustrating to have to pay attention to propriety. There was a twinge deep down when she worried it would always be like this, being torn in two between the kingdom and the life they shared together. But then, she had promised him it would not be a problem.

Éomer seemed to shake himself then and looked like a man who has involuntarily woken up from a beautiful dream. All the same, he did smile as they turned to greet her family.

Much to her regret, there was barely a chance to exchange two words after that. He mouthed _see you later_ to her as he was being herded into the palace, presumably to show his rooms and freshen up after the journey. Lothíriel knew it was irrational, but she felt peculiarly forlorn.

She didn't see him again until the start of the welcome feast. His armour was gone and instead he was arrayed in a green tunic, beautifully embroidered at the neck and hem, buck-skin breeches and soft boots – all quite appropriate for a summer in Rohan, but she imagined he would be envying the lighter clothing of Gondorian noblemen as the night progressed. As if to further set him apart, he had a few braids in his hair to keep it from falling on his face, and the gold of his head shimmered by the effect of many candles and lamps; a king crowned with the very light around him. If Éomer had seemed foreign in Minas Tirith, here he was even more so.

His seat was next to hers. He smiled when he took it and under the table, his hand quickly brushed her knee. Lothíriel looked down and felt like the entire court was staring at them. The spot he had touched tingled long after he had pulled his fingers back.

Soon enough Father rose on his feet, formally welcoming the King of Rohan to the city and announcing once more the happy tidings, though they were now well known. Toasts were raised to honour the betrothed couple and this time, Lothíriel knew they really were looking at her and Éomer. She fixed her own eyes on him and found reassurance in his beaming smile. A sudden ache burst in her chest. How much she had missed him, and would again once he left!

First courses were brought in and finally, there was a chance to talk with him a little bit. Father was gracious enough not to try and engage their royal guest first, rather giving the opportunity to her.

"I'm so glad you're here at last. I've never felt so impatient as these past couple weeks", she said, paying more attention to him than to the delicate fowl eggs arranged on her plate. She was using Rohirric to maintain a level of privacy even with the other guests nearby. The use of his native tongue made him smile, although she was aware she was a bit rusty after the weeks of not hearing or speaking Rohirric.

"Yes, I know the feeling", he commented wryly. "It was truly a long way here."

"Sorry I jumped at you like that when you arrived. I wasn't thinking if it would hurt your dignity or not", she said then, at which Éomer cast her an incredulous look.

"Why wouldn't I want my bride jumping at me? I assure you it was most welcome. What made you think such a thing?" he wanted to know, leaning a bit to her direction.

"Well, people in Gondor think of you as this fierce warrior king, so maybe you don't want to be seen frolicking in a lovesick display with some silly southern girl", Lothíriel said quietly. It sounded foolish even as she was speaking the words, but at least she could trust he wasn't going to laugh at her.

He snorted softly.

"Being a fierce warrior king and frolicking in lovesick displays are not mutually exclusive. I have never believed that owning my emotions is a weakness, and I'm not going to pretend so even if some Gondorian held such absurd notions", he informed her steadily.

She relaxed on her seat and smiled at him.

"Yes, you are right, of course. I suppose it's just... it's so strange being back in Gondor. It feels different than before I stayed with you and Éowyn. Some things I used to take as granted don't seem so obvious anymore, and others are more clear. What I'm trying to say is that the lines are blurring, and sometimes I'm not sure where to stand", she explained.

He gave her an even, studious look.

"Is it a bad thing? Does it scare you?" he asked her.

"I wouldn't say I'm scared. But I don't think it will always be easy to live between two worlds", she told him and took a small sip of her wine.

Éomer took her free hand, grasping it gently under the table.

"You will do fine", he said firmly. "I don't expect you to forget about Gondor, and it humbles me to know you choose to leave it for my sake. If there is anything you need me to do, or if there's anything in my power to make you feel more at home, then you must tell me. I will do my best to meet you halfway."

His hand remained on hers and she intertwined their fingers. For a while, she had completely forgotten about the fact they were in the middle of a formal banquet and surrounded by the nobles of Belfalas. But so it was with Éomer.

So she cast those thoughts from her mind for the time being, and their talk turned to lighter courses. He told her of his journey here, sharing a few amusing anecdotes about encounters with curious and confounded locals, and asked to hear more about the history of her home city. It was a happy night indeed, and for a while Lothíriel was able to forget all the long months that still spread before them.

* * *

The next morning was very fair, and so after breakfast, Lothíriel offered to show Éomer the beach. He had got ample glimpses of the sea already, but the beach was one of her favourite places in all of Dol Amroth and she wanted him to see it as well.

They made their way down the steep, narrow path that lead to the Prince's private beach. As a child, she had rather recklessly ran the path up and down, but now she took greater care of where she put her feet. Éomer followed suit, even more cautious than her.

Down on the beach she kicked off her soft slippers and sighed in delight as soft, white sand pushed between her toes; the weather was warm enough she didn't need stockings. She cast a smile at her betrothed.

"You'll want to get rid of your boots, too. Otherwise you'll be finding sand in them even after you've returned home", she advised him.

"I believe the servants would love having to clean it up", he conceded and removed his boots as well. He took a few tentative steps on the sand, feeling such thing for the first time in his life. Then he halted.

Éomer stood still for a little bit before he spoke a single word: "Weird."

Lothíriel laughed out loud and went to link her arm with his.

"Good or bad weird?" she asked him lightly.

"I haven't decided yet", he replied and smiled. Slowly they began to walk, keeping close to the surf but not stepping in the water.

"How do you like Belfalas so far?" Lothíriel asked him then. She imagined these parts of Gondor would seem as odd to him as Rohan had at first seemed to her.

"It's beautiful. I never thought anywhere could be more green than in the Mark, but appears I was wrong. Trees are different here; I would love to hear what Treebeard would have to say about them. There are so many plants and things I have no name for and the weather is warmer than I thought. And this air is strange. I suppose that is because of the sea?" he asked.

"You are correct. We always get a little bit wind from the sea. It keeps the city from getting too stifling. It's worse inland, especially in high summer", she replied, enjoying the feel of soft, cool sand under her soles. The sun had not yet warmed up the beach. She looked up at him wistfully, "You've got to take me meet the Ents after we are married. All the stories about them are simply marvellous."

"Indeed. Most of the time they don't care much for us mortals, but Treebeard is a steadfast ally and his counsels are wise where the land and growing things are concerned. It is good for us to know they are watching. I would imagine there are quite a few in the Mark with renewed respect for the earth, now that we are aware of what Ents can do when angered", he said and she could see a small shudder on his features. She expected he would not have anything to fear from them, but on the other hand, the memory of what the trees had done to Saruman and his army had to be clear in his mind. No reasonable man ever wanted to invoke that wrath.

"I wonder if there are any Ents in our woods. I had never heard any mention of them before my brothers told me stories told by you and other Rohirrim", she noted thoughtfully.

"Not even of Ent-wives? Treebeard will be sorry to hear it", he replied, relaxing again.

They continued walking on the beach and she spoke to him of the sea. She showed him the small shells that washed up on the shore and told him about far southern seas where shells would grow much larger. Tales had it you could hear echoes of the voice of Ulmo roaring inside them, if you lifted it to your ear. In small tide pools, they watched strange little creatures that inhabited the floor of the ocean. Éomer laughed when she shared a comical story of how a small but particularly fierce crab had clasped its claw around Amrothos finger, much to the latter's dismay.

"He says he still has two scars – one physical, one mental", Lothíriel quipped, which amused him even more.

The tide began to rise, and while he was examining something in unsuspecting reverie, she splashed him with foaming seawater. His eyes flashed in a way that promised a swift revenge, and he darted after her like a lion pouncing at its prey. With a shriek, she ran.

The beach then filled with laughter and shouting as he chased after her. She tried to avoid him by running quite randomly across the beach, but he pursued relentlessly, and it was in the surf that he finally caught her. Both went tumbling down in the water.

It was an unreal, breathless moment. The tide was rushing in and washing them both – a wet, excited tangle of limbs and soaked clothes and hair. He was half atop her, holding her eyes with his own, and seemingly unaware of all the rest of the world around them. It was quite scandalous and entirely delightful, and had he asked her then to ride back to Rohan with him, she would heartily have agreed.

"Now we're both wet", she observed. It was a wonder she was able to keep her voice steady. He was so warm and solid, and this was inescapable fact when both their clothes were sheer and soaking.

"Indeed", he agreed in a low voice. "I fail to see the problem in that."

She let out a snort, striving for humour so that she wouldn't start to feel excited in some very dangerous ways.

"No, you wouldn't, you absolute troll", Lothíriel said. Almost her voice died in her throat, because he was leaning down and she could feel his breath on her face... in his eyes there was sheer fire.

Abruptly he pulled away and rose up to his feet. Then Éomer offered both his hands to pull her up as well. She felt more than a little shaky, but she did hoist herself by the help of his hands. Lothíriel tried to ignore the fact that his shirt now clung to his skin, which was partially visible through wet cloth. At least her own blue gown was not so revealing.

"Shall we head back? Salt water is excellent at ruining one's clothes, if not taken care properly", she suggested and was proud of how nonchalant her tone was.

"Very well", he simply said, offered her his arm again, and they turned to walk back the way they had come.

However, she knew she wasn't going to forget about the look in his eyes very soon.

* * *

Their time together in Dol Amroth was all she had imagined and for a while, she forgot about the long months ahead. She showed him around in the palace and the city, exploring the streets and markets, and stopping by to watch the occasional performer. Walks were taken on the beach and in the gardens of the palace, and not a few times they rode in the lands near Dol Amroth. She had never felt such delight and wonder as when they rode their horses in the surf, both soaking wet again from seawater.

Éomer had to attend a few inevitable meetings with Father and other nobility from the area, and one night her brothers insisted on introducing him to local wines and liquors. But otherwise, their time was spent together as much as possible. No wonder she soon had Amrothos reporting the latest gossip: the King of Rohan and his bride were displaying unusual amount of affection for a political match.

She wondered how soon people would figure out this had not started as a political match at all.

They went sailing as well, which he endured with as much grace as he could muster, though his doubtful looks at the vessel were not lost to her.

As happy as his visit turned out to be, the end of it was inevitable as well.

On the second to last day, Lothíriel and her brothers took him to see one of the small islands close to the coast. She and him climbed up and down the cliffs, admiring sea birds that nested on the rocks, while her brothers were busy in shallow waters catching some fish. Elphir and Erchirion were successful in providing enough for the entire party to eat while Amrothos prepared a cooking fire. Soon enough they were seated around it, waiting for the fish to cook and sharing some crisp white wine they had brought along. She laughed so much that her sides began to hurt.

At times, she exchanged a glance with Éomer, who was sitting next to her. He looked happy and relaxed and his eyes glimmered with a deep, enduring light. But at times his hand lingered on hers, or touched gently her back, and she knew he too remembered the parting that was near.

Though she didn't particularly want to leave, it was necessary when the evening grew closer. Nights on these small islands could be cold and dismal when the sun wasn't warming the cliffs. So they cleaned up their little camp-site and boarded the boat once more. Elphir was steering the vessel while Erchirion and Amrothos managed the sails. Their co-operation looked like a three demented monkeys had formed a sailing crew, but somehow it worked surely and efficiently.

Lothíriel was seated at the brow with Éomer. He had no intention of risking anything by standing in the boat and she was eager to spend every available moment in his vicinity.

It was rather beautiful. The wind was warm and gentle, but strong enough to fill the sails. Light of the setting sun danced on the waves as the skies took on ever more dramatic colours. It was, quite possibly, the finest sunset of the entire time Éomer had been in Dol Amroth.

They sat quietly for a while, hand in hand. She was silently reflecting the difference in size and texture. His was quite clearly the hand of a seasoned Rider and swordsman, while hers betrayed her gentle birth and sheltered existence. It wasn't wrong at all to say their lives could be read on their hands.

"When will I see you again?" she asked him at last. Her voice was soft, though it was unlikely her brothers could hear the two over their loud bickering.

Éomer was silent for a moment.

"Do you think you could make it to Mundburg in a couple of months?" he asked back.

"I should imagine it is very feasible", she said and lowered her head to rest on his shoulder. Elphir was returning to the White City soon, anyway, and perhaps she could visit Éowyn before returning. Meeting him there wouldn't be same as in Dol Amroth, for there would be more demands on his time, but at least she'd get to see him.

She let out a sigh, "Spring is so very far away."

"I know", he murmured and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Meduseld has never felt quite as empty as it does now. I still expect to see you there... my housekeeper recently asked what to do with a scarf that you forgot behind. I asked to have it; I assume she expected I would return it to you. But I will not do such a thing."

"Why not?" she inquired, though she knew any property of hers was perfectly safe with him.

"Well, it's yours, and it has your smell. So I'm going to keep it for the time being", he said and cast her a charming smile.

She decided to send a few of her scarves to him over the winter, but said nothing of it at the time. He would love the surprise gift.

"In that case, you may keep it", she said and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

"I do have something to give you, though", Éomer said suddenly and reached for his pocket. Then opening his fist, he revealed a delicate ring, wrought from gold and embedded with shining emeralds. She breathed in sharply and stared at the small item on his palm, as he went on to speak, "I was waiting for the right moment to give it, and I suppose this is it. I hope you like it."

"I love it!" she squealed and gave him a beaming smile. Confident that her brothers were too busy with the boat, she dared to lean closer to kiss him quickly.

She could feel him sighing softly into the kiss and then pressing forward, and she knew he didn't want her to pull back as fast as she did. Lothíriel decided to kiss him properly later on, when there was smaller chance of being caught.

"I have a ring for you as well", she said then, breathless and eager. "But I don't have it with me now. I'll give it to you as soon as we get back."

He smiled as he unwound his fingers from around her hand. Instinctively she offered her fingers to him and without further ceremony, he slipped the golden ring into its proper place. Already she felt like it belonged there.

In silent agreement they joined both their hands, fingers twining and grasping gently. Topmost was her left hand and she knew he too was looking at the ring that now adorned her finger. She thought of how fitting it was to mark the union of man and wife with a ring; it had no beginning or end, just like love didn't when it was truly felt.

The waves and the wind carried them closer to the harbour of Dol Amroth and the Sun journeyed far into the West. In that rich hour before the night came, Lothíriel thought Éomer's ring glimmered like living fire in her hand, searing itself deeper than skin and bone.

Spring may be far away still, but it was inevitable. In this moment, there was no memory of winter.

 _To be continued._

* * *

 **A/N:** I return with an update at last! I haven't been able to write that much lately, but I am working to get this story to a proper end. Originally I meant to write more about their year apart, and perhaps include something from a meeting in Minas Tirith, but this seemed like a natural place to stop with the sense of hope and waiting.

I hope you liked this chapter! Thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Witger5 -** I admit that bit with Imrahil (and his sons) observing Éomer's interest in Lothíriel is something of an allusion to the side story. He wasn't quite so subtle about it as he thought!

I hope you liked the little bit with _mearas_ in this chapter!

 **Cricklewood16 -** Glad to hear I was able to deliver at the right time! :)

I think Imrahil wasn't actively planning anything, he was mostly just hoping things would work out favourably.

 **sai19 -** I'm happy you liked it! :)

 **sunshine . katz -** Yes, he was rather anxious to make sure they were serious about it! I hope you enjoyed these little glimpses!

 **Serni -** I hope you liked their meeting in Dol Amroth! :)

 **Rho67 -** Thank you very much! Happy to hear you enjoy my stories, and I hope this chapter was to your liking!

 **EStrunk -** It seemed like the perfect thing to do, having Éowyn announce the news. And happy Éowyn is the best Éowyn!

 **lovingvamp346 -** Thank you! :)

 **Anon -** I did try to write a few letters, but they weren't really going anywhere. But I hope you liked this chapter!

 **Doranwen -** Thanks! I'm glad you like the story so much. :) And you are right, Imrahil is quite the shrewd man!

 **Jo -** Thank you!

 **blasttyrant -** I did my best to keep the hopeful tone, even if she had to leave!

 **Menelwen -** Glad you are back! :)

I didn't want to focus too much on the goodbyes, but write more about the hopeful waiting. I do hope you liked these little moments they had together during his visit!

 **frank . kilgenschmidt -** Thank you! I hope you liked this chapter! :)

 **Wondereye -** I wouldn't say he planned it. He was hoping for it, certainly, but knew they had to come at it in their own terms.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Her room was quiet now.

All day, women of the household had been fluttering about it, and Swan Knights had come and gone, carrying a chest after chest to be loaded in a ship that lay in the harbour. Linens for her marriage bed, jewellery and new gowns fitting of royal status, porcelain and silverware to be used in the King and Queen's table... Now all was finished and the chamber looked so bare and forlorn that Lothíriel was almost scared to remain there. It had been her own for as long as she could remember; yet this was the last night she was to spend there as a maiden.

Perhaps she would stay in this chamber again when she visited her childhood home, but it would be as a married woman. She didn't expect this space would feel her own then... and to be honest, it really didn't anymore.

She glanced around in the room. Most of her belongings were now packed away, and only such small things as would be needed to get ready tomorrow still remained. Even her sewing basket should be on board, so she couldn't calm her nerves and get something else to think.

Feeling like a stranger in her own home, Lothíriel sat down on the big chest at the foot of her bed. She clasped her hands together and wrung them. It was absurd. She had been so anxious for spring and the wedding, but now on the night before the bridal party was set to leave Dol Amroth, she felt so nervous and scared! But at the same time, she missed Éomer so much that it made her ache. She wished she could talk to him, or just hear his voice. He never failed to reassure her, even if he felt troubled himself.

A small smile now tugged at the corners of her mouth. She had come to rely on him as much as the other way around.

Yet it was still several weeks' journey before she could see him again, and before that, Lothíriel was going to have to say her goodbyes.

Her mood began to dampen again, but it was then three people burst into her bedchamber. There came her brothers, smiling and carrying what looked like a bottle of some fine liquor.

"What's this? Have you been raiding Father's wine cellars again and came here to hide the evidence?" she asked, striving to sound indignant, even though she was glad for their intervention.

"Of course not. We decided our only sister deserves a proper send-off", Elphir said lightly as Amrothos plopped himself down on her bed and Erchirion pulled out chairs for himself and their eldest sibling.

The ache that had been growing in her chest began to ease at the sight of the smiling faces of her brothers. If they were sad at her leaving, they did not show it. And that was the point, she realised.

Elphir popped open the bottle and offered it to her. Normally, she would have been scandalised to touch their father's better liquors, but perhaps this occasion warranted it. Carefully she took a small sip. It had a thick taste, a little bit sweet, and it burned like a rope of fire on its way down her throat. Lothíriel coughed as she handed the bottle back to Elphir.

"So, are you ready for the journey tomorrow?" asked Erchirion.

"One moment I'm ready, the next I feel quite terrified", she replied in a faint voice. The liquor still burned in her belly and made her eyes water.

"That is only natural. I had similar notions just before I married. But it will pass. Once your wedding day comes, you won't even remember any misgivings", Elphir stated sagely. He sipped the liquor before handing it over to Erchirion.

"Oh, she's not even being as bad as you were at the night before your wedding. I actually thought you were going to call it off. But Lothíriel wouldn't do such a thing. Firstly, she's too much in love with that horselord of hers and secondly, we all know Éowyn might burn down Dol Amroth if anyone dared to break her brother's heart", Amrothos said cheerfully from the bed.

"Don't listen to anything he says. We all know Amrothos will be lucky to ever find a woman who agrees to have him", Erchirion quipped and lifted the bottle to his mouth. He took a much larger mouthful than Elphir and Lothíriel had.

"You've got nothing to worry about, sister. Éomer is at least as much in love with you as you are with him, and the rest you can manage. Father always said that once you found your course, you would sail beautifully", Elphir said. His voice was solemn but he was smiling.

"Indeed. I have no trouble admitting that you are much more put together than I have ever been", Amrothos said as he reached to take the bottle from Erchirion. He was sounding serious for chance, which made her throat grow tight once again.

"Please don't cry. We wanted to make sure your last night here wouldn't be sad", Erchirion said in concern and he came to sit next to her on the chest.

"I'm not sad", she said and received the bottle from Amrothos almost absent-mindedly. She took another sip before she continued to speak, "It just feels so enormous, you see? Everything will be different. And tonight I feel torn in two. There's a part of me that never wants to leave Dol Amroth, and yet I know that without _him_ I would never be truly happy, even here."

She then let out a tearful little laugh and offered the bottle to Elphir again. She cast a smile at them.

"How greedy you must think I am. Whining like a little baby that I can't have everything", she said and tried to swallow the lump that was still lodged in her throat.

"Not greedy", Elphir said gently and reached to touch her hand. "Just human."

And that made her feel better. She wiped her eyes in the backs of her hands and then Amrothos came to sit on her other side, so that she was between him and Erchirion. It felt nice and secure, just like when she was a small girl and she believed her brothers were the strongest knights in the world.

Again the bottle found its way to her hand and she cast a stark look at the smiling faces around her.

"Are you trying to get me drunk? I can't be puking over the railing when we set sail tomorrow", she said, but took a sip nevertheless. The liquid was starting to burn less and less as it reached her stomach.

"That would be something, though, wouldn't it?" Amrothos chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

Lothíriel let out a breath she hadn't noticed holding. Perhaps this night didn't have to be so bad, after all, and she could be glad for what was ahead of her, not feel sad for what would be left behind.

* * *

The bridal escort was something else.

There was Father's court and also that of King Elessar and Queen Arwen, and it was surprising how many people already accompanied Éowyn and Faramir, although Ithilien was far from being resettled. Legolas of Mirkwood and Gimli Glóin's son were honoured guests as friends of the King of Rohan. All the great Houses and a number of minor ones had sent their representatives, and all brought households with them. Footmen, washers, stablemen, cooks, lady's maids, guards and scouts... at times, Lothíriel could hardly believe that all these people were following _her._ Other times, she was certain it would all fall apart into chaos.

How had Éowyn kept her calm so well before her wedding? Only in the final days had she shown any anxiety. Lothíriel strove to show a serene, dignified face to the people around her, at least to those were not family or friends. But privately she didn't feel half as reassured.

It helped a bit when Éowyn and Faramir joined them in Emyn Arnen. Her dear friend stepped aboard looking like nothing could please her more than being here. The White Lady was practically brimming with energy and good cheer and had Lothíriel been a frailer woman, she might have been crushed in Éowyn's tight hug.

As the bridal escort was to stay a few days in Minas Tirith, they had a chance to spend some time together and catch up. Éowyn had much to tell about her and Faramir's recent labours in Ithilien; altogether it looked like her new life agreed with her incredibly well.

Seated in the private parlour of the Stewards in Minas Tirith, Éowyn was pouring them some more tea as they sat near the open window. Gardeners were busy with the small patch of green outside, and Éowyn had been just telling her how she disliked staying in the city for too long.

"Too much stone", she had said, wrinkling her nose. No wonder she loved the green, fragrant Ithilien so well.

"So, how are you feeling? Nervous at all? Ready to run for the hills?" Éowyn asked brightly.

"It varies from moment to moment", Lothíriel said and smiled wanly. She didn't suppose people would stop asking this any time soon.

"I can imagine. But if it's any comfort to you, my brother's letters stopped making any sense weeks ago. If you are anxious, so is he", she said and folded her legs under herself. Éowyn had no qualms about discarding all dignity when she had no need for it.

Lothíriel couldn't help but smile when she thought of her bridegroom prowling the capital like a madman. Winter had been _long._

"How do you feel about going back to Rohan?" she asked her friend.

"I'm glad to see my old home again. I think now is a good time to get back. I've grown used to Gondor, and there's so much to do that I rarely remember to get homesick", Éowyn replied and shrugged slightly.

"But you do get the feeling sometimes?" Lothíriel asked carefully. She was wondering how often she would be having it.

"Of course I do. Anyone would. But you need not worry about it. You will be too busy to brood over things. Are you bringing any of your own handmaidens to serve you? Having them for company will help in those moments when you do think of Dol Amroth", Éowyn said warmly and lifted her cup to her lips.

"I am bringing a few with me", Lothíriel replied. "But I'm not sure yet how soon they will be demanding to get back to Dol Amroth."

"In that case, ask Scýne to introduce them to some local young men. That way, it's usually easy to find an excellent excuse to stay. I think we both should know", Éowyn said and her grey eyes glimmered with mirth. But there was another meaning behind her words, one that Lothíriel could perceive easily because of their friendship.

 _Build a life. Put down your roots. It's easier to do when you're not doing it alone._

Suddenly Éowyn put aside her cup and she reached to touch Lothíriel's hand.

"I know you're not doing this because of me", she said softly and seriously, "but I am thankful all the same. I've felt guilty over my own happiness sometimes. I will rest easier now, knowing that Rohan finally has a queen and my brother isn't alone anymore."

Lothíriel gave her a keen look.

"Say, did you ever think it might happen when you invited me to stay in Edoras with you?" she asked her friend.

Éowyn's smile was sheepish.

"Well, I thought from the start that you are simply charming, and that if he didn't notice it, he would be the biggest fool I ever saw. But your father was quite correct. Some things must happen in their own time and manner", she replied.

"I am surrounded by schemers", Lothíriel said and cast a glance of feigned suffering in heavens.

"Don't blame me. I just invited you to stay with us. The rest is on yourself", Éowyn said lightly and offered a beaming smile to her.

The younger of the two women grumbled as though in indignation, but at the end of it she couldn't help but start to laugh.

* * *

When Lothíriel saw the stallion, the mare and the foal grazing near the Mering Stream, she wasn't even surprised. At this point, she knew to expect them. Somehow, _mearas_ were now wound around her own life. She almost snorted out loud. Even the great horses of the West had been on to the secret long before she and Éomer figured it out.

Among the rest of the escort, at least those who were close enough to see the three animals, there were sighs and exclamations of wonder and admiration. The horses seemingly paid no attention, but Lothíriel knew better.

"What are they doing?" asked Amrothos nearby. He had seen Shadowfax, but he still had a wide-eyed look. No wonder. _Mearas_ were creatures of wonder, but nowhere as much as here in Rohan.

"Don't you know, Lord Amrothos? They're here for the lady", said Captain Folca – the same Rider who had escorted her to Edoras the first time she had ridden there. She was glad to see the man again, even if his presence intensely reminded her of that journey which had brought her to the capital of the Mark. So much had happened since then but in a way, this felt like the fitting conclusion.

When he spoke the word "lady", he glanced at her direction and briefly bowed his head, like a lot of Rohirrim were wont to do these days. Some of them seemed almost as excited about her betrothal to Éomer as the King himself.

"But how do they know?" Amrothos demanded, glancing between the Rider and three horses.

It was King Elessar who answered his question, perhaps sensing the young man was not ready for the lectures he'd otherwise receive from Éowyn and Captain Folca.

"How does a swallow find its way back north after the winter? How do salmons of the northern rivers find the waters where they were hatched? Queen Yavanna and Lord Oromë have many secrets, and I doubt us Mortals will ever guess half of them", he said, also regarding the wondrous animals.

Amrothos did not seem satisfied with this answer. He glared at his liege-lord.

"Legolas has been holding you back at camp-fires again, hasn't he, Aragorn? Filling your ears with mysteries and Elvish nonsense", he grumbled. The company around them laughed, even Legolas who knew not to take the words too seriously.

"You should join us some time, Amrothos. You might learn something", King Elessar said mildly. His bright grey eyes glinted in mirth.

Lothíriel was not listening to the banter anymore. She watched the three horses in silence. They looked straight back for a moment before going back to their grazing. She smiled to herself and cast her eyes westwards.

Yes, she was back at last.

* * *

Close to the end of the journey, they made a stop at the old town of Aldburg. It was the birth home of Éomer and Éowyn and there he had served as the Third Marshal and Warden of the East-Mark. She wondered if he ever wanted to go back, or if Meduseld was finally starting to feel his own. For her it was difficult to imagine him anywhere except the Golden Hall.

The hall was quite packed that night, and so Lothíriel was thankful when Éowyn leant closer and suggested in whispers they go and take a stroll in the small garden that also served as a kitchen orchard. Some fresh air sounded very tempting.

However, they had barely got out of the doors when Éowyn suddenly turned around.

"Go ahead, Lothíriel. I'll just go and change my slippers into something better suited for walking", she said and hurried back before her friend could say anything.

For a moment she hesitated. Should she wait for her friend, or go ahead like Éowyn had told her? The night was so calm and quiet, and with Marshal Elfhelm's diligent guards, she wasn't likely to run into any trouble. And the weather was so nice...

She made up her mind and began to walk. The garden was not far off and it was silent. Herbs and vegetables grew in neat rows and beyond them, there was a shadowy line of apple trees. The air smelled sweet and earthy; it reminded her a bit of Éowyn's gardens in Ithilien.

Lothíriel had already made one turn in the garden and she was starting to wonder where her friend had vanished when she suddenly heard a voice speaking.

"My lady", it spoke, low and gruff, "why do you walk here alone at such hour?"

She jumped in surprise and alarm.

"Who's there?" she demanded to know, and her voice came out steadier and more confident than she felt. Granted, she only had to scream and guards would surround the place, but who knew what tricks this shadowy scoundrel had up his sleeve?

"Just a weary traveller stealing a glance of the loveliest of maidens", said the stranger. She had now located his voice to be coming from under the apple trees. Indeed, a tall shadow was standing there.

"Are you some kind of a highwayman? I assure you, Marshal Elfhelm will not take kindly to you lurking about the premises", she informed him, though there didn't seem to be coming any particular sense of threat from his way.

There was a low, muffled laugh in the shadow and she frowned. The sound was familiar and she was starting to have some serious doubts about this chance meeting.

"Oh, he's more lenient than one might guess", he said and sounded amused. Now the resemblance was all too close.

"In that case, I think I will have some very stern words with him. What would the King say if he knew such characters prowl in kitchen orchards at night?" Lothíriel asked, resting her hands on her hips. It was all she could do from running and throwing herself at him. The madman!

"He would be appalled. And then wonder if these characters know something he doesn't", came the answer. He sounded positively gleeful now and she couldn't hold back anymore. With a delighted squeal, she dashed straight into his arms.

A few minutes passed in an enthusiastic greeting. Éomer held her tight to his chest and her hands pressed against his head to keep him close. After the first hungry kiss, it grew a little slower, though not any less intense. He smelled of the wind and the road and she ran her fingers across his cheeks, feeling his beard and his skin. It was him. He really was here.

At length breathing became necessary. He pulled back a bit, but his arms remained around her. Even in the dark she could see the mirth on his features.

"I can't believe you thought I was a highwayman", he whispered.

"What did you expect, lurking in the shadows like that?" she said sternly, although the whole affair now seemed hilarious. Now this was some material for entertaining stories in the future.

She looked up at him quizzically, "How come you're here? Aren't you supposed to be waiting for me in Edoras?"

"Yes, that was the intention. But I got impatient. I had to come and see you", he replied and pressed another small kiss on the tip of her nose. With her fingers she felt his left hand and the ring that he carried. She had been unconsciously checking it was still there, the silver ring she had given to him before they parted in Dol Amroth. But of course she knew it had not left his hand since then.

"You are impossible. Why didn't you meet us at the Hall?" she asked.

"Nobody knows I'm here, except for Éowyn and one gatekeeper. It would be too much of a fuss if I came in open, and there will be enough of that in Edoras. I didn't come to stay, anyway – just to bid you welcome. My men are waiting beyond the walls", Éomer said and looked very pleased with himself.

"Éowyn! I should have known", Lothíriel said and shook her head helplessly. "You are lucky my father doesn't know about this little escapade."

"Yes, what would he say if he knew how his daughter dallies with highwaymen in gardens at night?" he quipped lightly, at which she gave his shoulder a small punch.

"You're not going to let that go, are you?" she asked.

"Absolutely not. It gives me ideas", he said, and she thought of how very irresistible he was while being so charming and carefree. Her last remaining bits of caution and good sense warned her of what dangerous results it would have, were Éomer not a decent man. And still could be, if their wedding wasn't so near.

"Of course it does", she muttered and tiptoed to kiss him again. _Only a few more days..._

It threatened to grow into something heady and she had more and more difficult time keeping her thoughts in order. But then Éomer took a step back and he let out a low, deep groan. The sound made a shiver run down her spine.

"You should get back inside", he said quietly, "before something happens no innocent vegetable should witness."

She let out a hysterical little laugh, though she was sensible enough to know he was right.

"And you should get going before someone sees you, Master Highwayman", Lothíriel told him.

She heard a low chuckle in the dark. He was already retreating.

"See you soon, lovely maiden..."

* * *

The eve of the wedding had been a gloomy one, with heavy clouds hanging low over the sky. It did rain a bit during the night, but then the wind had risen and cleared them away. Sun rose high and bright, promising a beautiful day.

Éowyn woke her up early. They had breakfast together and then they began to prepare for the day. Lothíriel felt like her heart never quite stopped racing in her chest. Today was the day. Today she would marry Éomer.

What a wondrous, wondrous fact.

After she had bathed, more ladies burst in. Lady Scýne and Hild were there, along with a few more Rohirric women, but Queen Arwen trailed by some Gondorian ladies came as well. One might have thought it would be a chaotic scene and impossible to get anything done, but Éowyn and the Queen ruled over them with an iron fist.

While the dress was laid out and admired at, two young girls were busy combing the bride's hair. Judging by the way they were going at it, no less than a thousand brushes would be enough.

Light repast was brought at midday, at which point Lothíriel already felt quite ravenous and bewildered with all the noise and people whirling about her. Father made a quick visit in the chamber, but he could hardly get in two words. Eventually he just patted her shoulder and promised to see her before the ceremony. Somewhere down the hall, Amrothos was singing and Father hurried off to make sure he didn't get drunk before the feast.

"It sounds like quite the hassle out there", Lothíriel said and felt glad she wasn't responsible for the last minute preparations.

"It's pure madness", Hild said cheerfully. "It's even worse than I thought."

Somehow, her saying _worse than I thought_ sounded like she thought that was _good._

"Nonsense, Hild", Queen Arwen said evenly. "It's really not that bad. People are just excited. So many of them don't even remember a time when Rohan had a queen."

The Elven queen rested a reassuring hand on Lothíriel's shoulder before speaking straight to her.

"Don't you worry about a thing. All will be ready in time", she said calmly, which eased the young bride's nerves a little.

Éowyn materialised at her side while she was just finishing her meal.

"I just ran into my brother in the hallway! He should be getting ready, but there he was wandering around and hoping to catch a glimpse of you! What is that oaf thinking?" she moaned and brushed a hand across her forehead as though in extreme weariness and general disbelief at certain people's antics.

"Bridegrooms are known to be quite scatter-brained", Lady Scýne put in lightly as she was adding finishing touches to the flower crown that would be worn by Lothíriel. Having seen the beauty and splendour of Rohan's fields in this fair season, she had chosen spring flowers instead of the silver circlet she had originally thought to wear. She had a feeling Éomer would appreciate it, too.

Scýne continued, "Rather, it's his wedding party I'm wondering about. Have they already been to their cups if they can't contain him? At least half of them are married men themselves, so they should know better. Well, I'm not so surprised about certain characters among that crowd, but I had thought King Elessar at least was well-adjusted."

Her blunt statements caused some hearty laughter among the ladies, and even the Gondorians present were not trying to hide their sniggers.

"No offence", she quickly added and glanced apologetically at the Queen Arwen.

"None taken", said the Queen gracefully and dabbed spots of perfume behind Lothíriel's ears and her wrists. With a slight smile, she said, "Sometimes they do take some management."

"Hild, go and find Éothain! Tell him I shall murder my brother if he's not ready by the time the wedding will start!" Éowyn ordered the girl, who was grinning as she darted outside.

"Please don't make me a widow so soon", Lothíriel uttered and gulped a large mouthful of her wine – supplied by her own party for the wedding celebrations.

Lady Scýne was quick to snatch the goblet from her hand. She didn't even spill any of the contents.

"Slow down, my lady! Do you want to be as drunk as Amrothos at the ceremony?" she scolded her gently. "You will want to remember your wedding night."

"I can't decide whether Éomer would be furious or gleeful if I showed up drunk to our wedding", Lothíriel said, though the woman's latter statement had already her colour rising. A pleasant shiver ran down her spine. Much of her things had already been taken to the King's rooms, and he would have woken up surrounded by them today. Had it been strange for him, or did it make him even more eager for the night to come?

"Probably both", Éowyn and Scýne agreed in one voice. Then they burst out laughing.

Oh, Béma. If the day already was this chaotic, she could only wonder what the rest of it would bring.

* * *

Finally all was ready. Lothíriel stood in the middle of the chamber and the ladies around her were adding final touches to her array, straightening the flower crown and making sure there was not a single wrinkle in the shining fabric of the dress. Silver and blue were the colours of the House of Dol Amroth, but the ladies of the line always wore only white and silver to their wedding.

Lady Scýne took a step back to regard her from head to toe.

"Béma's beard! Between you and Éowyn, I do not think this Hall has ever seen a more beautiful bride. The King will not know what hit him", she said and smiled brightly.

"I believe Éothain and the council should be prepared to attend to the running the realm for the time being. My brother is going to be quite unavailable for at least a month", Éowyn conceded, eyes sparkling.

Lothíriel was too anxious to come up with a fitting response. She just gave them a strained smile and took a deep breath.

Hild peeked inside.

"Queen Arwen says they're ready now. Unless you are having second thoughts, we could get started. Or if you need me to cause a diversion while you make your escape, that's fine too", the girl said cheerfully. Lothíriel groaned. Had everybody lost their minds today?

"Don't be silly, Hild", Éowyn said sternly and turned to face the young woman who was about to become her law-sister very shortly.

The White Lady's expression became gentle and warm. She asked, "Are you ready?"

Lothíriel could not make a sound, so she just nodded. Éowyn gave her an encouraging smile and then they began to move. And as they made their way through the Hall, she found herself thinking of all the little moments that had brought her here, to this day. She recalled their first meeting in Minas Tirith and the piercing, grim looks he had given her, sitting in a puddle in the middle of courtyard of Meduseld, and the quiet hour of night when she had reached her hand to him and spoken soft words of comfort. She recalled her fear and worry when he had got home injured, watching over him during the night, and the feeling of companionship that had risen between them in those dark hours. More and more memories came, his hand touching hers, the way he smiled at her, the way he looked at her on the Yule night when they danced together...

Suddenly, all felt absolutely right. And then the twin doors of the Hall opened before her and she was momentarily blinded by sunlight. When her eyes adjusted, she saw before her a tall man in green and gold, his hair shining as brightly as his polished coronet. His cloak, green as spring, was finely embroidered at hems and fell all the way to his ankles. The gleaming pommel of his sword peeked from under the cloak, but it was the only sign of his warrior's prowess; he wore no mail or helm, but a tunic of finest wool and breeches made of supple buckskin. He had never been more handsome.

Éomer's eyes were wide and shining as he lifted his arm, and feeling so happy that she had never experienced it like, Lothíriel went and put her hand in his.

* * *

As they sat down in the King's table, Lothíriel could not hold back a sigh of relief. Her feet were already aching thanks to her fairly impractical slippers and the fact they had been standing so long, receiving guests intent on greeting and congratulating them.

Éomer took seat next to her. He had discarded his cloak, but otherwise he was still in ceremonial array. She could hardly keep her eyes away from him, this golden man who now was her lawful husband. Thinking of it made her feel giddy in a way that resembled intoxication.

"Béma, I feel like I could eat an entire boar", he uttered as the servants began their intricate dance of serving drinks and carrying dish after dish from the kitchens. He was eyeing the plates they carried with particular interest.

"You should have eaten something earlier when you were getting ready. But no, you had to be wandering in the halls, hoping to sneak into your bride's room", she teased him gently.

"Can you blame me?" he asked, feigning perfect innocence. "If I had to wait for one more day, I would surely lose my mind."

"You're not the only one", she said with a slight shake of her head and reached for his hand. He clasped her fingers tightly in his own and regarded her long and serious.

"I didn't have a chance to say before", he uttered softly and leant closer, "but you are so beautiful today that I almost dare not look at you. And yet at the same time, I can't look away either."

A warm, delighted sensation rose in the pit of her belly.

"Thank you", she whispered and felt such a dizzy mixture of emotions that she was glad when steaming dishes were placed before them on the table.

Food and drink restored her. It felt like it had already been a very long day, but after a few sips and bites she felt like she could keep on going until dawn. The thought made heat rise up her neck. _That_ depended entirely on her new husband.

Éomer ate with hearty appetite as well. Apparently, his party had not provided him with any food since morning, poor thing. Often he turned to comment on something, or just grasp her hand, or perhaps brush his fingers under her hair and against her neck.

"Another thing that came to my mind", he said as he leant close to whisper, "I love that you decided to wear your hair open."

She cast him a smile. It was another last moment decision, like discarding the circlet she had originally meant to wear. And it still felt quite the bold move, especially now that so much of the Gondorian nobility were present. But it was certainly worth it, Lothíriel thought to herself, and smiled at the memory of how he had stared at her when she had stepped outside. She couldn't say she didn't like the way he kept touching her hair.

"I thought you would appreciate it", she told him sweetly and cast a coy look at him from under her eyelashes. "I think I will have to keep it open more often."

"You certainly should, but it won't be my fault when the royal council comes complaining that I am too distracted", he quipped, making her laugh.

But as her laughter faded, and she watched how candlelight glimmered in his hair, and how happy he looked... she reached to touch his hand and spoke softly, "You are very handsome today. Not that you always aren't. But sometimes, now especially, I almost can't believe you're mine."

He lifted her hand to his mouth and there was eagerness in the movement. His breath was hot against her skin and for a moment, she felt like he was having some kind of an inner struggle. Then he put her hand down again and she saw he was smiling.

Towards the end of the banquet, the King's bard took the floor. He performed a traditional wedding song in Rohirric, in which advice was given to the young couple on how to lead a good life together. The tune was lovely and his voice clear and powerful, and even Gondorians, who mostly didn't understand the words, applauded him eagerly.

When the tables were being cleared, Éomer leant closer to her again.

"Would you like to take a walk? I believe there will be a crowd outside and they'd like to greet us", he said.

"Let's go, then. I'd like to get some fresh air", she agreed with a smile.

As they walked side by side through the hall, guests greeted and cheered. Cups were raised, heads bowed in deference, and noisy congratulations were declared. Éomer was beaming next to her and she too felt that her face might go numb from all the smiling.

The guards opened the twin doors of the Hall for them and the King and Queen of Rohan stepped outside. The sun was westering and Lothíriel was a little bit surprised to realise it was already so late. But she paid only brief notice to the passage of time, for then she saw the crowd gathered in the courtyard. The place was more packed with people than she had ever seen before, and they burst out cheering when the bridal couple appeared. The noise was deafening.

"Béma. I thought _I_ was happy that we're married", she whispered to him. He let out a low, rumbling laugh as he lifted his hand high in greeting. She did so as well, though her gesture was a little more restrained.

But as she was taking in all the faces in the crowd, her eyes suddenly fell on familiar features. He was standing near the steps and looking straight at her. It had been little over a year since she had last seen him, and in that time, he had changed. Lord Déorwine wore his hair longer and there was a light beard on his cheeks. Perhaps it was that which made him look older. But his frame was somehow more angular, too, and he didn't remind her so much of Gondorians as he had before. First she wondered why he was not participating the feast – he would surely be invited as Marshal Erkenbrand's nephew and a lord – but then guessed he had not wanted to impose.

A small smile lit his face when he saw that she had noticed him. Then he bowed his head as a man would before his queen, and Lothíriel felt like some burden she hadn't been aware of carrying fell away from her. He was one of the lords of the Mark and she would meet him again sooner or later, but now she knew she didn't need to fear it. Perhaps one day she could even call him her friend.

But then her husband's arm wrapped around her shoulders and he bent his head to her. All other thoughts fell from her when they kissed and she didn't even mind having such an audience. Wild cheering rose again and she felt like the very air was thick with mirth and celebration. Surely tonight it was impossible not to love the world and life itself!

When they separated, she remained close to him.

"Kissing me in public. How dare you?" she asked him lightly.

"Get used to it, wife mine", Éomer replied and gave her one of his charming grins.

She decided she would.

Greetings of the crowd received, they made their way back inside. The court musicians had assembled and were waiting for the signal to begin the music. Without further ado, Éomer lead her to the centre of the now cleared floor, pulled her close for the bridal dance, and asked if she was ready.

Lothíriel nodded, too excited to make a noise.

It was a breathless flurry of music and colour and movement. His hands were sure and warm and his proximity made her heart race in her breast. Around them, other couples whirled, guided by the sweet tune. The second dance was with her father, whose smile was bright despite the sheen of tears in his eyes, and then was Faramir's turn. But after a rather rowdy group dance with Marshal Elfhelm as her partner, Éomer came to her side again and snatched her away from other willing partners.

"Thank you", she whispered to him as they made their way through crowd. "I was starting to fear my feet might drop off."

"That would be unfortunate. Come here, let's sit down for a bit. Are you thirsty?" he asked and handed her a cup of white Amrothian wine. She took only a small sip, knowing that however fresh it was, it was not good for sating one's thirst. Well, unless she wanted to be hauled to bed after getting blindingly drunk.

They sat there for a while, both just catching their breath.

"Are you as ridiculously happy as I am?" she asked him softly.

"I believe I am", Éomer replied and brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. The way he was looking at her... she could tell he really, _really_ wanted to retire already. But he was letting her decide when that would happen. What a dear man, always so concerned about her comfort and well-being.

It was a lovely feast, but she had already spent a long day being in the centre of attention. Now she wanted to be alone with him without any fear of interruptions.

So she reached to touch his knee gently, lowering her voice when she asked him: "Would you like to retire?"

He instantly leant closer.

"Béma, _yes",_ he muttered and kissed her, momentarily revealing his impatience. He glanced around quickly, "But perhaps we don't need to make a number of it... yes, there she is. Hold on."

Lothíriel didn't understand it at first when he raised his cup like he was toasting. Those close to them cheered and toasted as well. Not two minutes later, Éowyn appeared next to him and she realised he had been giving some previously agreed on signal to his sister.

"So, you're ready to make your escape?" Éowyn inquired, grinning as though a participant of some devious plan.

"Yes, we are", Éomer said emphatically. He looked at his bride, "Earlier I enlisted the help of some allies. Éowyn will take you to our rooms, while Éothain and Scýne make a diversion."

"A diversion?" Lothíriel asked in interest.

"Yes. They're going to dance", Éowyn said and sniggered.

Seeing Lothíriel's nonplussed expression, he began to explain, "You'd have to see it to understand. But let's just say they are a true menace of dance floors everywhere. Common jape goes they once started a riot."

Indeed, it looked like some kind of a ring had already formed nearby and the noise was growing.

"I'm almost sorry not to see it", Lothíriel said as she got up on her feet. "But I think I'm still getting the better bargain here."

It was not hard to guess what Éomer was thinking. His eyes said it all.

The young queen felt a shiver pass down her spine and something heady was starting to grow in her stomach. But she ignored it for the time being and linked her arm with Éowyn. But before they made their exit, she touched his hand.

"See you in a bit, love."

* * *

The second morning after the wedding was golden and bright. Yesterday had seen some rain, which had given the bridal couple the perfect excuse to postpone emerging from the royal chambers. No one seemed to expect much of them in the mornings, which was why they had agreed to go and take a walk outside in the fields. The idea of walking in the city was impossible while the wedding celebrations continued.

Lothíriel had been lost to her thoughts for a while, musing over the past few days and how much had happened. Reuniting with her betrothed, returning to Edoras, and then the wedding… a sense of wonder and bliss lingered in her thoughts and instinctively she squeezed the hand of her husband. She hadn't thought her love for him could grow any deeper, or that she could feel even more close to him, but it appeared these things were possible.

She glanced up at him and met his smile with her own.

"So, what are your first impressions of marriage?" she asked him.

"I find it very agreeable. I never thought much of it before, and certainly I didn't expect to be so lucky. But here you are, and I love you so that it seems to encompass all manner of things and feelings, in ways nothing else ever did before. It's like the world is now between the palms of our hands. It's hard to put into words", he replied slowly. At hearing his words, her heart swelled.

"I know what you mean", she said and briefly rested her head against his shoulder. "You are part of things now that seemed so singular before."

She looked up at him again, "Did you ever think it could be like this?"

"Perhaps not consciously. But seeing the happy couples around me, no matter how much I hoped I could have it too, how could I possibly be so fortunate?" he said with a slight shrug.

"And look at us now", Lothíriel said softly.

"Indeed", he agreed and kissed the top of her head.

"So you didn't immediately set your eyes on me when we first met?" Lothíriel asked in a gentle, teasing tone.

Éomer let out a soft scoff.

"Your father likes to say he foresaw this right there and then. And certainly I took notice of you right away. I wouldn't say it was love from the first, but… it is true I never got you out of my head after that day", he said and wrapped his arm around her. Somehow this information pleased her.

"You never left my head, either. Even if at first I was sure you didn't like me", she said. This was now easily admitted. though it had once been a sore point for her.

"Foolish thing", he muttered and halted so that he could kiss her properly. She liked it very much, even if kissing him these days usually lead into other, very interesting things.

And then, still cupping her face between his hands, he regarded her very sincerely.

"I don't think I ever told you, Lothíriel", he said, soft and even, "what it meant for me that you came to stay with us. When the war was over, I was so full of anger and grief and doubt. It seemed like some kind of a mistake that I lived and Théodred died. But then you came, and you were so sweet and kind and patient… and then I wasn't angry anymore. How could I be when I look at you? I don't know what you did, or _if_ you did anything at all, but today I am truly happy to be alive. And I wouldn't change a single thing. I suppose, what I'm trying to say is just… thank you. For everything."

Tears filled her eyes. A sob broke through her lips, but then he was kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, her mouth. It was all so much. And she felt full and new and certain, and she loved him so much that not in a hundred years could she measure it completely.

"I do not think myself anything remarkable", she stammered, barely able to talk through her tears and her beaming smile, "but that's all right. Knowing you see me in this way… it means more to me than all the fame and glory in the world."

* * *

After a while, they turned their faces back towards the capital of Rohan. Light shimmered upon the Golden Hall, standing proud on the green hill. Around it the great plains opened in one side, and on the other rose into great mountains. Lothíriel thought of her first glimpse of this place, the sense of wonder and strangeness she had felt then, and tried to think of the point when it had changed.

It was known and loved now. It was home.

"Lothíriel", Éomer spoke her name suddenly. There was something unusual in his voice, not alarm precisely, but something akin to it nevertheless.

She turned and saw what had captured his attention. The horse was coming their way, trotting lightly and without haste. He bore no bridle on him and his back was bare. Only once before had Lothíriel seen one so close, and this kept getting nearer and nearer.

Neither she or Éomer said anything as the great horse came to stand before them. He was easily the most beautiful horse she had ever seen, his coat shimmering, his neck strong and proud, and his limbs long and fair. Did one ever get used to _mearas?_ She could only wonder.

The horse pushed his head against Éomer. He was snorting softly, as though to convey some urgent message. Lothíriel saw his eyes grow wide.

"I think he means to let us ride him", he said at length. He looked rather shocked as he carefully ran his fingers against the animal's neck.

She could hardly believe it. Her, riding one of these extraordinary horses? Mere idea was ludicrous.

"Really?" she asked him in wide-eyed, breathless disbelief.

The horse turned his great head and pressed his velvety nose against her hand and she couldn't help but think he was very much replying. A small, shocked sound escaped from her mouth.

"Aye. We can't refuse him, can we?" he said, and now she could see a smile dawning on his features. His eyes had a keen, burning light in them and she knew how very much he wanted to do this.

"That would be rude", Lothíriel agreed shakily. Her fingers trembled as she ran them against the head of this wondrous creature.

Without a further ado, Éomer gave her a boost so that she could get on the back of the horse. Then he leapt to sit behind her, managing the deed more easily than she had. First she felt unsteady without a saddle or reins, but her husband put his arms around her. She instinctively grabbed his forearms and leant tight against him for support; he sat as firm and sure as in any horse's back.

"Don't worry. He won't let us fall", he whispered in her ear. "Just breathe."

Momentarily she closed her eyes and focused on him instead of her nerves. He was warm and solid and his arms around her – a sensation now intimately known to her – were reassuring. And she knew that even if by some unlikely chance the horse did try to throw her off, _he_ would catch her.

She opened her eyes. The grey horse was moving, hastening his step. Maybe he too had felt her growing easy once more.

"Let's go", Éomer said, as much to her as to the beautiful _mearh._

Wind caught in her hair. She felt the horse's muscles tightening, and then he leapt forward like an arrow from the bow. Behind herself, Lothíriel could hear Éomer laughing. Her own voice joined his, bursting out in wonder and joy as the grey steed flew forward.

And swiftly he carried the King and his bride over the green fields of the Riddermark.

 _To be finished._

* * *

 **A/N:** Here is a new chapter, which is also second to last! I hope you liked it. :)

I did not want to dwell more on their year apart, as I didn't have anything particularly poignant to say about it. Let's just assume many letters were exchanged and they pined for one another a lot. ;) The side story might share a few more remarks, but more on that later.

I really loved writing this chapter and all the light-hearted interactions in it. I hope it conveys this joy and hope of a new spring that has finally come. As much I enjoy my angst, sometimes it just feels great to let the characters be happy.

I'm having a vacation now, so that should mean more writing time, and I believe I will soon be able to update the side story as well. As a matter of fact, I would very much like to share a bit more of what happens when they retire after the wedding feast.

Thank you for reading and reviewing, and as always, let me know what you think!

* * *

 **Wtiger5 -** Glad you liked it! :) I think it made perfect sense to have the _mearas_ appear then, seeing how they have been a part of her journey almost from the start.

Anyway, I'm glad if my update helped you with your own writing! That's always a great thing to hear, knowing something I did inspired others. :) I hope your writing goes more smoothly from now on!

 **EStrunk -** I think he appreciated it very well! Let's just say it was really getting on both their patience. ;)

 **aryaputra -** Happy to hear you liked it! :)

 **Jo -** Indeed! ;)

 **Anon -** Thank you!

 **rossui -** Yeah, it was long time waiting! And the update from his POV is coming. I think the new chapter will soon be done, and then I'll just have to do some polishing with it. But let's just say I already like very much what I've got drafted so far!

 **Wondereye -** Glad you liked it! And you are quite right. Being so impatient to finally be together isn't easy at all.

 **sai19 -** Hope you enjoyed the wedding! :)

 **Cricklewood16 -** Thank you! I am happy to hear you are enjoying the story so much. I would probably write it anyway, as this is a fun hobby of mine, but if others are entertained as well, then that is just wonderful!

An update for the side story is coming, and I hope to publish it soon!

 **blasttyrant -** Thanks! :)

 **sunshine . katz -** Thank you! I liked that bit as well. :)

 **Doranwen -** Thank you very much!


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 _Edoras, April 1_ _Fourth Age_

 _My dear sister!_

 _Thank you for your latest letter. It was much expected. I am so glad to hear that the labour went well, and both you and the child are in such good health. I was keen to prepare immediately for travel, so that I could come and see you and my new nephew, but thankfully my wife is more reasonable than I am. Don't worry, though – we shall be riding to see you in Mundburg for the naming, as you asked. I can't wait to see your son, Éowyn._

 _Although Lothíriel did not agree to riding straight away to your home in Emyn Arnen, you should know that many toasts were raised for your and your child's health that day. It has felt a bit like a national holiday, to be honest. I do not think you will ever be forgotten in the Mark, and your children will be just as beloved by our people._

 _I am so happy for you and Faramir. It feels like all things that were wrong are now made right, and all this new life burns so bright that it overwhelms me. There are still times when I wonder if it's but a lovely dream, and then I can't help but go and grab my wife to make sure she really is here to stay. Do you ever feel that way with your own new family? I suspect that you don't – you seem so grounded these days, and I can't imagine what could possibly destroy your peace of mind._ _I suppose it will take a while to trust this to last. I hope I will, as I don't expect Lothíriel to endlessly put up with my jumping at her._

 _Speaking of her, I too have wonderful news. Only today, she told me that she is with child. We are having our first baby! She must think me a lunatic now, the way I lifted her and waltzed her through our rooms, laughing all the while as I went. Can you believe it, Éowyn? I am going to be a father! Now, more than ever, I feel like in a dream. I still haven't stopped shaking, so you'll understand if this letter is messier than usual. No doubt I'm going to be writing you and Faramir many panicked letters when her time grows near, but right now, I'm the happiest man in Middle-earth._

 _It's a wondrous thing, Éowyn, this sense of peace that's growing on me. I haven't felt this whole in years. Around me, I see my people thriving again, my friends happy and hale, and children born who will never have to fear the Shadow like we did. Roads to south and north are busier than ever, bringing people and tidings and new ideas – and giving new livelihood to us, too. And the horses! If you could see the foals born this year! Every day, I hear so many new plans that if even_ _half of it is managed, then truly you will find this land transformed in a matter of decade._

 _I suppose I feel all this joy so deeply because of_ her _. This time of peace and healing would never be so happy without Lothíriel by my side. I love her so, Éowyn, and each day I feel it grow fuller and greater. It humbles me and fills me with awe, that this woman came and chose to share her life with me. And she's so good, tempering my rasher reactions, balancing my worse expectations with her hopeful ones, and listening to my venting with infinite patience and understanding. Of course we have our quarrels at times, but I can never be angry with her for very long. She only needs to look at me and I can hardly recall the reason for our disagreement. With me, she's so sweet and genuine and endearingly silly sometimes, and I think I've never laughed as much as I do now. But increasingly I find she will not hesitate to challenge my policies if she sees a fault in them, and her mind is an endless supply of all manner of information about Gondor. When we hold court and our people are around us, I see such dignity and grace revealed in her that it takes my breath away. And now my child grows under her heart, and we are starting our own family together. Éowyn, how did I get to be so lucky?_

 _I know, I know – my lovesick ramblings are old news to you, but I'm afraid they're_ _not going to run out any time soon. It is easy to picture the way you are smiling and shaking your head while reading my words. But I seem to recall similar ecstatic letters from year ago now, so don't you dare laugh at your poor brother. And after all, isn't celebrating happiness born from such love one of the purest acts there is?_

 _My dear sister. I do not know if anything I can ever do will repay or show my gratitude for what you did when you invited her to stay with us. Even now, I almost begin to shake again when I think of the idea that without you, I might not have known Lothíriel like this. Let me never forget what it felt like to live without her._

 _We miss you dearly, Lothíriel and I, but we also look forward to seeing you, Faramir and your son very soon. Then we shall talk properly of all these good things that have come to us. But for the time being I shall bid you farewell, for my wife is calling me, and I'm afraid I shall soon lose what little lucidity I was able to collect for your letter. Again, don't you dare laugh. It's not every day a man hears that the woman he loves is bearing his child._

 _You know how it is._

 _Until we meet again!_

 _With love,_

 _Éomer_

* * *

 **THE END  
**

* * *

 **A/N:** And here we are at last at the end of this story! I thank you all for following, favouriting and reviewing it!

Soon after starting this fic, I decided that the epilogue would be in a letter form like the prologue, addressed to Éowyn. I also wanted to write it from Éomer's POV. At the time, I had not yet started the side story, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to show his thoughts. When I did begin _Walk With Me In Winter,_ I thought for a while that the end of this story would have to be from Lothíriel's perspective after all.

I tried to write it, too. But I wasn't liking it at all. I still preferred my original idea. So, as I was fairly frustrated with the epilogue not being to my liking, I decided to give a shot to writing it from Éomer's POV after all. And it was many times better than the original version. Which is why you get little more of Éomer's POV in this particular storyline, but perhaps that won't be an issue!

Again, I would like to thank you all for your lovely reviews, and I hope to hear from you as soon as I start posting a new story!

* * *

 **Cricklewood16 -** I really loved writing that bit, too! And I hope you enjoyed this last chapter as well. :)

 **Rho67 -** Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. :)

 **EStrunk -** Thanks! I think it may well be my favourite chapter of this entire story. :)

 **Tibblets -** Yes, it feels unreal to me as well!

 **darkone7142 -** Glad you liked it! :)

 **Doranwen -** Thank you! :)

 **lovingvamp346 -** Thanks! I think it may be one of the best chapters in this story!

 **Catspector -** Thanks! It seemed like the obvious way to finish that chapter, seeing the way _mearas_ have been such an important part of their journey. :)

 **Guest -** You're welcome! :)

 **PilotDante -** Thank you! I admit, it would be amusing to write it! But we'll see. :)

 **Jo -** So, I take it you liked it? :D I did too!

 **Anon -** Every once in a while, you just need to go tooth-rottingly fluffy, you know? That light, happy mood just seemed like the thing to do with the chapter!

I admit I do like writing Éomer who is so deeply in love! ;)

 **amrawo -** Thank you! :) That is quite the compliment, to be compared to the classic novel! I rather like Pride and Prejudice, too.

 **blasttyrant -** Thank you very much! I am happy and a little bit smug to hear I've managed to surpass your expectations! :D

 **Aryaputra -** I rather think if you can't see the progress made by characters during the story, it's not a very good one. So I'm glad if it does show in this one!

 **tatylacorte -** Thank you for reading it! I'm glad you enjoyed the story so much. :)

 **Guest #2 -** Oh, I understand real life can be insane sometimes. I do hope you find a better job!

Also I'm glad to hear the story has that kind of a flow! It can be difficult with a longer story, maintaining that feeling of the story progressing naturally.

I admit I rather wanted to write the wedding ceremony from Éomer's POV, so I hope you like the way it's done in the side story!

I've always regared Éomer as this person who does combine these different aspects, the warrior and king and man; he can be fierce and proud but also so, so gentle. And he's sincere and genuine in his feelings, and he's not ashamed of these different aspects of himself. So it's not always the easiest thing to write him and I often wonder if I'm doing him justice.

I guess that as long as you're making the book for your own personal use, and are not distributing it to others, it's fine by me?


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